


Delta

by Rhiw



Series: A Delta's Worth [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Anilingus, Because Teen Wolf has decided Omegas are just lone wolves, Beta!EventualAlpha!Derek, Beta/Beta, Blow Jobs in a Car, Breathplay, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical torture, Control Issues, Creature Stiles, Deltas are Omegas, F/M, Fingerfucking, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Hermaphrodite!Stiles, HopelessRomantic!SortaDumb!GoodGuy!Scott, Kate is a scoiopathic bitch, Knotting, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Pre-Slash, Prostate Massage, Prostate Milking, Sex, Slash, Solo Masterbation, Stiles' Poor Pillow, UST, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, Werewolf Sheriff Stilinski, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski, pillow play, season 1 AU, slow build romance, stupid, teen awkwardness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2014-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 22:15:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 22
Words: 93,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhiw/pseuds/Rhiw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and his father have been the only two werewolves in Beacon Hills since they moved there seven years ago. In fact, Stiles had never even met another wolf that wasn't related to him. Which would be fine except that he was a Delta - a Third, a Breeder, whose only purpose in life was to find a nice big, strong Alpha or Beta to breed them like the bitch he apparently was. But, again, given the lack of werewolves, Stiles pretty much thought he'd never have to deal with any of that.</p><p>Then one night his father gets called out to a murder scene in the Preserve and Stiles can't help but go check it out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl in the Woods, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then the Delta saw it. It was huge – easily twice the size his father had ever been transformed and more wolf then human. Big and black, with claws that hung down to his thighs and red eyes that cut through the night. An Alpha. Holyfuckinghell, a fucking Alpha.
> 
> Stiles felt frozen in place, an odd mix of fear and fascination keeping him from moving. But then it was on Scott – Stiles had barely seen it move! – and the Delta would be damned if he was going to stand by and let his best friend be eaten by some fucking interloper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things You Should Know About This Universe:
> 
> Pack Ranks:
> 
> Given that the Teen Wolf universe places Omegas as lone wolves, the typical Omega from the A/B/O dynamic is now called a Delta. Given that Alpha rank can be inherited/earned by killing an Alpha and similarly an Omega is any wolf without a pack, the ranks Alpha, Beta, and Omegas are fluid. The rank Delta is less so, given that it's based on gender. There also two more ranks I'm using; Gamma and Epsilon. Gamma's consist of anyone too young for a rank - basically anyone who is prepubescent. An Epsilon is a Human Pack member.
> 
> So:
> 
> (As requested this list is structured to follow the Greek alphabet and is not a representation of pack hierarchy.)
> 
> Alpha - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Beta - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Gamma - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.  
> Delta - A Third Gender, a mix between intersexed and a hermaphrodite.  
> Epsilon - Can only be Male or Females as they're Humans.  
> Omega - Can be Male, Female or Thirds.
> 
> Eye Color:
> 
> Blue - Born Werewolf  
> Red - Alpha  
> Yellow/Orange - Made Werewolf  
> 

**January 16 th, 2011-Tuesday  
**

From where he was spread out on the top of his porch roof Stiles watched the stars, a red bull can balanced precariously on his chest as he listened to his father clean up after dinner. The dishes were normally Stiles' chore but his father had been going out of his way to be nice to his brooding son the last week and a half. Since The Breakup.

Danny. Christ. What a nightmare that had been. The wounds of The Breakup were still fresh enough to occupy his mind when Stiles wasn't paying enough attention to keep them out. It was almost pathetic how Lifetime Channel their whole relationship had been. The only two gay teens in school finding friendship and support through each other, only to have it develop into something more.

It could have lasted, Stiles really thought it could have. They had been good together, they had been happy. But, no, Stiles had to go and ball it up by being an effing werewolf.

Like, with teeth and glowing eyes and everything.

The teenager sighed and slid a hand over his shorn hair in irritation. Being a werewolf wasn't really that terrible. There were no hunters in Beacon Hill and as long as they kept everything low key, Stiles and his dad had managed pretty damn well. And, well, with his dad being Sheriff they had a secure safety net. Stiles was practically a Daft Punk song; everything about him was harder, better, faster in every way. He should have been the fucking king of goddamn Beacon High instead of being regarded as the somewhat amusing nobody.

Honestly though, it wasn't like Stiles was really picked on. Only by Jackson and his goons (which was probably going to be way worse now that Stiles had broken his best friend's heart) but that had pretty much been ongoing since he'd first moved here. No, Stiles wasn't popular, but he had Scott and he'd had Danny and the Delta hadn't needed anything else.

He'd always been attracted to both sexes; girls and boys both excited him. And when Danny Māhealani, the Hawaiian adnois he was, had taken an interest in him, Stiles had jumped at the chance. It had been wonderful. Danny was smart and funny and...well...he wanted to date Stiles. There wasn't exactly a line for that. But then the time came that Danny had wanted to take things to the next level and it wasn't that Stiles hadn't wanted to. He was a teenage werewolf, it was like being a horny teenager times ten. But there was no way in hell that the human wouldn't have noticed that something was different about Stiles, and Danny would have definitely noticed the fact that he self-lubricated and had a few extra (and missing) parts.

Because Stiles was a Delta. Not an Alpha or a Beta or even an Omega – a fucking _Delta,_ the only ranking in werewolf society that was determined by gender. Unlike humans who had only two genders, werewolves had three; male, female and thirds. Thirds were not quite intersexed, not quite hermaphrodites, physically with the appearance of males and capable of producing semen they could only carry – never sire – pups.

It was a biological and genetic nightmare and a very bored Stiles had once tried to figure out the evolutionary purposes or Punnett square that shit but it only left him more confused. And while a third could technically become an Alpha or an Omega, neither of his parents had ever heard of one. Thirds stayed Deltas, stayed breeders, whose only purpose in life was to find a nice big, strong Alpha or Beta to breed them like the bitch he apparently was.

Try explaining that to your human boyfriend.

Fuck that, try explaining that to _anyone._

Danny had taken the rejection badly. Stiles couldn't blame him. Sure the human had been tired of all the secrets between them, always trying to get Stiles to open up. But they were secrets that Stiles could really never tell him, so he'd done the only thing he really could do and let Danny go.

Stiles let out a huff of frustration.

So that left him to either non-sexual relationships with humans or else limiting himself strictly to his own kind.

That last one wouldn't seem so damn daunting if it wasn't for the fact that Stiles had never even _smelled_ another of his kind, much less met one. As far as he knew, he and his dad could be the only two left in the world. And Deltas were always mated to Alphas in the stories Stiles' mother had told him – it was the only happy ending any of them ever seemed to have. When he was little, he used to dream about meeting his Alpha. But as the years went by and the Delta had failed to meet any werewolves besides his father, Stiles had pretty much given that fantasy up.

Besides, one of his mother's fathers had been a Delta and he'd mated with a Beta. Both his parents had been Betas. Stiles didn't need an Alpha for happiness. He would do fine with a Beta.

Of course – that all hinged on somehow meeting other werewolves. Which seemed pretty dreary, considering their was no OKCupid for the supernatural. Well not any real, non-batshit crazy ones. Stiles was going to die from sexual frustration, he was sure of it. Dead by eighteen by a case of fatal blue balls.

Led Zeppelin's Kashmir blared into existence and Stiles jumped slightly, automatically catching the red bull before it could fall and listened shamelessly to his father's conversation.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

“ _Hey, Sheriff. I'm afraid we've got a body up at the Preserve.”_

“A body?”

“ _Yeah. It's bad, John. Better get up here before the press gets wind.”_

“How bad is bad?”

“ _We only found half of her.”_

“...shit. I'm on my way. Call in everybody.”

From where he was laying, Stiles jumped to his feet, eyes wide in excitement. Holy shit, a murder! In Beacon Hills. But...but... _nothing_ ever happened in Beacon Hills!

“Hey, kiddo.” His father's head popped over the porch railing and stared up at him. “I know you heard that. So I don't need to iterate how much crap you're gonna be in if I find you've left this house, do I?”

Stiles sputtered, pressing a hand to his heart in mock pain. “Dad, please! What kind of terrible son do you take me for? I'll be right here, where it's safe.” At his father's disbelieving look he shot him a three finger salute. “Scouts honor. Right here.”

A finger pointed threateningly up at him. “Right there, Stiles.”

“Wait...you want me to wait on the roof? What did I do to get inside privileges revoked this time?”

John rolled his eyes before slipping off the porch completely and jogging towards his police car. “In the house, Stiles!”

“Going in right now.” He called back, already heading back in his window. The Delta waited until he could no longer hear his father's engine before popping back out and sprinting towards Scott's house. There was no way in hell he was going to miss the only thing exciting to happen in _ever._

After a short, unexpected almost encounter with a baseball bat, Stiles managed to drag Scott out into the preserve. His friend was nervous but the Delta didn't really feel worried. At worst there was a crazy dude out there hacking people up and Stiles was confident enough in his abilities to protect them if needed. Besides, with his pops out in the woods the chances that whoever did this was going to escape his dad's keen nose was pretty slight. Speaking of which...

“We need to go this way.”

“Why?” Scott frowned, cocking his head to the side in confusion before nodding towards the opposite direction Stiles was pointing. “You were dead set on going that way earlier.”

“Um,” because he could smell the potent scent of his dad drifting on the breeze, “my Jedi senses are tinging.” He tapped the side of his nose. “And right now they're telling me to go _thataway.”_

Plus he needed to stay downwind or this was gonna be a one hell of a short trip. Scott just rolled his eyes and followed. “I still can't believe you got me out of bed for this.”

“Shut up, man. You weren't even in bed.”

“I was about to be! And do you know what will happen if my mom knows I left again while she was on shift?”

The Delta rolled his eyes. “Whine much?”

“Seriously, Stiles! She's still pissed about what happened with the Jacobs' lawn ornaments.”

“While a delicious prank, we deny all acknowledgement.”

“Like she doesn't know. I live surrounded by old people, who else is gonna make plastic deer hump-”

Stiles snorted, gleeful at the memory. “It was beautiful, wasn't it? Bambi meets the Joy of Sex.”

“Dude, you're always getting me in trouble.” Scott declared grumpily. There was a rather strong undercurrent of fondness to it, though, and his friend was practically bleeding out the scent of amusement so – Stiles froze and slapped his hand against his mouth, turning quickly so that Scott couldn't see his face.

There was a sharp _ping_ of pain as his fangs tore at his bottom lip. _What the fuck?_ Why the hell was he wolfing out? The Delta blinked hard, trying to rid his eyes of the blue glow he knew they must have.

“Stiles? What's wrong?” Scott asked worriedly, coming up to stand at his side, a grounding hand resting on his friend's elbow. He was worried about a panic attack – but this wasn't a panic attack by any means.

“Nothing! I'm fine, just – just bit my tongue.”

Something was wrong, something was very wrong. There was blood in the air, wolf blood. Stiles spun and took a few shaky steps towards where the smell was the strongest. He'd been upwind of it before but now it was almost overwhelming.

And then, there she was.

Stiles felt like he was going to throw up. Whoever this girl had been, she'd been one his kind. The first werewolf other then his family that Stiles had ever seen and she was dead. Dead and beautiful, even if there was only half of her there. There was a flash of light, almost blinding to the wolf's enhanced night vision, as Scott flipped on his phone's flashlight.

His friend let out a yelp, jumping away from the body as if he'd been physically struck and Stiles turned too late to catch him.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled, eyes wide as he watched the human tumble ass over head down the embankment. He started to leap down after him but stopped, eyes flickering to stare at the woods around them. Something was out there, Stiles could smell it, just underneath the scent of dead leaves and blood. It was strong and acidic, like sick or rotted meat. He'd never smelt anything like it before but it made his hair stand on end, every instinct on high alert.

And then Stiles saw it. It was huge – easily twice the size his father had ever been transformed and more wolf then human. Big and black, with claws that hung down to his thighs and red eyes that cut through the night. An Alpha. _Holyfuckinghell,_ a fucking _Alpha._

Stiles felt frozen in place, an odd mix of fear and fascination keeping him from moving. But then it was on Scott – Stiles had barely seen it move! – and the Delta would be damned if he was going to stand by and let his best friend be eaten by some fucking interloper.

With a growl Stiles threw himself down, landing on the Alpha's back and digging in with teeth and claws. The sound the bigger werewolf let out made everything in Stiles shrink, made him want to roll over and present his belly – present everything – if that meant it would leave him alive. But Scott was still screaming, trapped between its jaws and Stiles held on, digging deeper even as his own pathetic growls were drowned out.

The Alpha twisted and a clawed hand dug into the soft flesh on his back and threw him bodily away. Stiles rolled with the impact, already screaming for Scott to run and he hoped the human was smart enough to listen because he didn't have the time to check. The Alpha would be coming for his blood now. There was no way in hell it was going to let a challenge like that go unanswered, much less from a fucking breeder.

Stiles ran faster then he'd ever had in his life, the woods blurring around him as he barely managed to jump logs and miss narrow tree trunks. He could hear the thing crashing through the woods behind him. Even before it pounced the teenager knew he wouldn't make it.

Stiles managed one desperate, winded howl for help before the Alpha slammed into his back with the strength of a freight train. He fought like a cornered cat, all claws and limbs as he desperately tried to keep the snapping maul away from his neck. Thick claws dug into his side and Stiles screamed, his voice breaking into a whine as they dug deeper, clunking painfully against his rib cage.

The scent of his blood filled the air, utterly repugnant to Stiles but above him the Alpha went still. A large, blunted nose pressed against the open wound and Stiles' felt his eyes roll backwards as pain blossomed along the length of his side. The nose slid up his chest, dragging his t-shirt along until the fabric slipped off, and a cold nose was pressed against his neck. The Alpha let out a low rumble, as if pleased, before nudging Stiles' head to tilt even further back. The Delta obeyed, terror curling in his stomach. He shivered as the Alpha took deep huffing breaths of his scent, nose swirling over his pulse point. Stiles let out a whimper, squirming, as a warm tongue licked at his neck. It was long and wide enough that the muscle could almost completely encircled the smooth column. He let out another whine as the tips of teeth grazed at his neck, opening small cuts.

There was a huff of breath along the abused skin before the tongue returned, lapping up the blood that trickled down his neck. Stiles let out a low moan, shuddering as his stomach tightened in sudden pleasure at the attention. He titled his neck further back, hips twitching. It wasn't until he felt a frighteningly hard, obscenely large pressure against his leg that Stiles came back to himself.

His eyes snapped open _(when had he closed them?)_ and the Delta let out a snarl, slamming his forehead into the Alpha's and renewing his efforts to escape. His actions earned him a back hand to the face that sent him tumbling onto his side. A large hand pinned him by the back of his neck, claws digging in warningly as its twin yanked his hips up. Stiles felt his eyes widen in horrible realization as a heavy body settled against his back.

_Oh god, oh no nononononono -_

And then suddenly the weight was off his back.

Stiles scrambled to his feet, chest heaving as he watched the Alpha and another werewolf – a Beta – roll in a violent parody of pup play. A Beta was still nothing against an Alpha though, not alone, and Stiles desperately tried to force himself to rejoin the fight. Whoever the Beta was he'd saved Stiles life, but the young wolf couldn't bring himself to leap back into the fray, the fear he felt was too complete. There was a glint of metal and then the Alpha let out an ungodly loud bellow, spinning as it tried to pull out a nasty looking boot knife from its back.

“Come on!” The Beta snarled, grabbing Stiles by the hand and physically pulling him away from the spinning Alpha. The teenager tried to keep up, but Stiles' knees kept buckling. He didn't know if it was the pain or the shock but he could hardly run, stumbling every few seconds. The Beta growled low before doubling back and scooping the teen up. Stiles let out a choked sound, hands instinctively circling around the Beta's neck as he surged forward into a neck-breaking sprint.

Stiles clutched onto a leather jacket, staring over the older werewolf's shoulder, as an earthshaking howl erupted around them. Stiles pressed his face against the other wolf's shoulder _(fucking crazy, all of this, who the fuck was this guy even?)_ and held on even tighter. He tried not to think of what would happen if the Alpha caught them again. Or if it had gotten Scott – or...or his _father_. Oh god, his dad would have been drawn to his cry for help, what if he was killed? It would all be Stiles' fault, because he just had to go fucking look and -

The Beta came to an abrupt halt and Stiles let out a startled sound as he was placed on his feet and suddenly bare-chested, the remains of his shirts and hoodie being tossed carelessly to the side, before being lifted once more. He sputtered in shock, gripping at the Beta' shoulders for balance even as he stared at him with wide eyes. “What the hell?”

“He'll track the blood.” The Beta growled out and Stiles paled in realization. He glanced over the older wolf's shoulder, scanning for any sign of the Alpha. He could still hear it, though it's frantic movements were growing more and more distant. A splash of cold water jolted the Delta's attention frontward again. The Beta was dragging them through a stream, wadding until the water was shoulder deep and Stiles scooped up handfuls in an attempt to remove both the blood on his neck and the Alpha's scent. They must have been in the water for a good mile or so before the other wolf finally crossed to the other side.

“I think I can walk now,” Stiles said softly, feeling more then a little bit awkward. The Beta gave him a sharp, evaluating look before setting him back down on his feet. Blue eyes glanced down at him, sweeping over his frame in a once over before large hands gently prodded at the healing punctures along his ribs. The Delta allowed it, though every muscle in his body was tense. He had no idea who this Beta was, or what was happening, but he had saved Stiles' life and for the moment he was willing to go on faith.

The teenager took the moment to observe his rescuer. The Beta was older then him by several years, with dark hair and strong features. He'd reverted almost completely back to his human form, leaving only the blue eyes of a natural born and a slight point to his ears. He had a heavier build then his father, with broad shoulders and muscled forearms that could easily be seen through his jacket.

When the wolf reached for his neck though, Stiles drew the line. It was subtle, nothing more then a shifting of the muscles but more then half of communication with their kind was non-verbal and the Beta drew back. The expression on the older wolf's face was unreadable, thick brows furrowed low.

“...you're a Delta.”

“Congratulations, you know your genders.” Stiles snapped, feeling ruffled by the seemingly non-sequitur.

The Beta just stared at him for a moment longer before turning and shouldered off his jacket. Stiles caught it on reflex, cocking his head to side questioningly as he stared at the other wolf.

He shrugged. “Its cold out.”

“Not for us.”

“You're injured.”

Stiles ran a hand over the mostly healed stomach wounds. “Its almost healed.”

The Beta let out a low growl before advancing slightly on the smaller wolf. _“Put it on.”_

“Okay, Jesus!” Stiles shrank back, a hand up placatingly as he slipped on the jacket. Admittedly, he was warmer but Stiles hadn't really been cold. The Beta's scent, thick and heady, surrounded him, overtaking his own and the teenager wondered if that had been the point. Regardless, “I'm really freakin' tired of random werewolves growling at me today. Been waiting my whole life to meet others and I gotta say; _serious_ let down.”

The Beta looked at him oddly. “You've never met one of your own before?”

Before he could answer they both froze, heads snapping to the opposite side of the bank. The Alpha was advancing. The Beta cursed, grabbing Stiles by the wrist and taking off again. The teenager was able to keep up this time, letting the older werewolf lead him through twists and turns in the forest that seemed to imply a deep familiarity that made Stiles nervous. This wasn't this strange wolf's first time in Beacon Hills. That was worrying, but he seemed just as intent on getting away from the Alpha as the Delta was and so he followed his lead, sprinting hard.

The Beta skidded to a stop, yanking back a thorny branch of a dense thicket. Stiles dropped to his knees and nearly dived in. The Beta followed seconds later, the branch snapping back into place with a wicked hiss. There was only a small, narrow hollow in the thicket, with barely enough room for the two. The Delta was partially underneath the Beta's form, the older wolf frantically covering them with piles of dead foliage.

The heady smell of incense-cedar and white pine, mixed with greenbrair and the potent scent of dead leaves filled Stiles' lungs. He lay still, straining his senses for any sign of the Alpha. The Beta's breaths were warm puffs against Stiles' ear and the Delta stiffened as the wolf shifted, tucking Stiles even further against his side.

“Calm down.” The Beta's voice was hushed, almost beyond even a werewolf's range, but his mouth was pressed so close that Stiles could feel his lips brush against the shell of his ear with each word. “Take deep breaths.”

Stiles nodded, closing his eyes as he tried to quiet his rapid heartbeat. He had almost succeeded in reaching some realm of control when a low, furious growl echoed through the forest. Panic blossomed anew. There was no way the Alpha wouldn't find them if he came close. He'd fucking kill them, tear them apart. Oh god, Stiles _was_ gonna die a virgin. He was gonna die. His dad was probably dead and Scott and _it was all his fault._

Stiles' hadn't realized that he'd latched a death grip on the other wolf until the hold on him shifted and the Delta felt a sharp pressure on the back of his neck. The pseudo-scruffing cleared some of the panic in his brain and Stiles managed to retract his claws from where they'd been digging into flesh.

The Beta drew him closer still, the hold on the back of his neck tightening as another large, wide hand gripped his hip. The Alpha was close and coming closer and the Delta hid his face against the soaked fabric of the Beta's t-shirt. Everything inside him was telling him to _runrunrunrun_ but he knew there was no way he could outrun an Alpha - no way to escape. Stiles squeezed his eyes shut and tried desperately to keep enough control over his instincts to keep from giving their hiding place away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stopping to get a feel for the story, see if there is interest and also because I need to sleep, lol. Please tell me what you think. I hope it's not too confusing. If you have questions, feel free to ask and I will answer. More will be explained the further we get on.


	2. The Girl in the Woods, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles kept his eyes closed, taking deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to calm his frantic heartbeat. Each intake filled him with the Beta's scent and with the broad body above him, the younger wolf could almost allow himself the illusion that he was completely hidden, masked from sight and smell. But the Delta had no misconceptions about the direness of their situation.
> 
> Dame = Another word for a bitch (as in female dog/female animal). Stiles uses it in this chapter to show which one of his maternal grandfathers was a Delta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your guys response to this story has been freakin' stunning. Thank you all so much. You inspired me to crank this chapter out. Enjoy.

****January 16 th, 2011- Tuesday** **

The cracks of twigs told of heavy footsteps maybe less than a half a mile away and the silence of the forest told the rest. It was as if the entire preserve was holding its breath to see where the Alpha was going to go. The Beta had rolled them so that Stiles was underneath him, limbs braced on either side of the Delta's body to keep most of his weight off the smaller wolf. Stiles kept his eyes closed, taking deep breaths through his nose in an attempt to calm his frantic heartbeat. Each intake filled him with the Beta's scent and with the broad body above him, the younger wolf could almost allow himself the illusion that he was completely hidden, masked from sight and smell. But the Delta had no misconceptions about the direness of their situation. The Beta above him was still, every muscle tense as he peered out through the heavy bushes, ready to fight or flee as needed.

The wait seemed to drag on for an eternity. The world narrowed down to the itchy feel of the leaves against his skin, the press of the Beta's body atop him, his strong scent, and the twin sound of their racing heartbeats. Finally the Alpha drew away, drifting in an unhurried pace towards the north. Above him, the Beta's body relaxed. The action caused his weight to shift down slightly, placing more on Stiles' frame.

“We should wait a bit, make sure he doesn't come back.” The older wolf said, tone still wispy and almost non-audible. He glanced down and suddenly Stiles felt crowded. The Beta's face was inches from his own, forearms resting on either side of his head, his legs echoing the position by his waist and suddenly Stiles felt too boxed in, cornered.

“Get off me at least.” He hissed, shoving at the Beta's chest. The Beta rolled onto his side obligingly. They were still terribly close; there was only enough room for him to rest on his side, curved against Stiles' lines. It was enough (had to be) and the Delta took a steadying breath. “Who the hell was that? Are all Alphas like that?”

“No,” the Beta said sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared off into the direction the big wolf had lumbered off. “I've never seen an Alpha like that before. Did you catch his scent? He's gone rabid or something.”

Stiles shivered at the thought. “We can do that?”

The Beta glanced down at him and his eyes had faded to a light green color. They were puzzled, his head cocking to the side from where it was propped against his hand. “Have you seriously never met another wolf?”

“Of course I have!” Stiles snapped, barely remembering to keep his voice a harsh whisper. He felt his cheeks flush. “My parents are both Betas. It's just, my dad was Made and my mom died when I was six. My mom's Dame was a Delta, but he was really old when she passed and had dementia. He always thought it was 1923 for some reason. He told me what he could but I was pretty young and...” He faded off, feeling more than a little unsettled at the strange, piercing look he was receiving. He shifted uncomfortably before rolling on his side, he felt too vulnerable on his back, and tried again. “Look, I might not know a lot but I know enough to know that, that? That was fucking insane.”

“When a wolf loses control of himself like that he's usually put down, by either his pack or a Hunter.” The Beta explained quietly, looking slightly uncomfortable. “It happened to my dad's brother. He went mad, schizophrenia or something, started killing humans. My grandfather put him down.”

Stiles pushed that gruesome thought away for a moment. “A packless Alpha? Isn't that super dangerous for the Alpha? And why would he come to Beacon Hills? It's only me and my dad here. There was a pack here once, but they all died long before we moved here.”

Something dark flashed across the Beta's face at that, his entire expression hardening. “I don't know, but someone called my sister here a few days ago. She called me last night and told me to get up here, that someone had been sniffing around our old grounds.”

“Your old...you're a Hale.” Stiles grimaced, remembering the flippancy of his earlier comment. Everyone knew that almost all of the Hale pack had died in a house fire. Crap, didn't he feel like the horse's ass. “Uh, sorry about earlier, no disrespect meant. There were no scent markers when we got here, I swear we'd never-”

“Relax.” The Beta interrupted, voice slightly amused. “We still own the land but we gave up the territory a long time ago. My name's Derek Hale.”

“Stiles.” He offered quickly, “Stiles Stilinski. No, it's not my real name and _no,_ I won't tell you it.”

He hated his first name with a passion. Almost as much as he hated his last name and – a thought made everything inside of him come to an abrupt halt. His sister....Stiles felt his stomach drop out as the mangled body from the woods flashed to the forefront of his thoughts. Oh _no_ , was she his sister? Should – Should Stiles tell him? How the _hell_ do you even tell someone that?

His panic gave him away and Derek shifted, a hand resting on the Delta's shoulder as he frowned at him. “What's wrong? Your heartbeat just doubled.”

“Derek, I...” Stiles started. How was – how was he supposed to? “Your sister...”

The Beta stiffened. “What about my sister?” The grip on his shoulder tightened to the point of pain as the teenager's silence grew. _“Stiles,_ what about my sister?”

“Back where you found me, I'm so sorry – Derek, wait!” But he had rocketed out of the thicket. Stiles shot out after him, cursing himself. Why hadn't he waited to tell him? You know, break the terrible news when there wasn't a mad Alpha running around the preserve? Fuck, he was so stupid!

He fell somewhat behind sprinting wolf and Stiles couldn't help but wonder where the hell Derek was getting his energy from. Sure, werewolves had a stupid amount of reserves but after the flight they'd just taken from the Alpha, Stiles was struggling.

He burst into the clearing where the body was and came to a dead stop. Derek was on his knees in front of Laura's body – god, Stiles knew her name now and that made everything way too real – and the look on his face could only be described as shattered. It seemed out of place, because despite the short amount of time he'd known the Beta, Derek didn't seem to be an overly emotional person.

He had a hand resting on her forehead, fingers slightly tangled in her hair. The Beta let out a choked sound, yanking off his shirt and draping it over the naked form, and Stiles felt his heart break a little at the sight and sound of it. His pack had never recovered from the loss of his mother and Derek had already lost so much. What if Laura was all he had left?

Stiles had to bite his lip to keep himself from moving forward, from trying to comfort the Beta. He had always been a fusser – he had enjoyed taking care of people for as long as he could remember. He always figured it was the estrogen, the Delta part of him. Everything inside him was pressing him forward, but Stiles had no idea how Derek would react to his touch. He knew next to nothing about the wolf in front of him. Except that he had saved Stiles' life, that he had gone to bat against an unknown Alpha, alone, for an equally unknown Delta.

There was the sound of approaching footsteps, rapid and determined, but undeniably human. Stiles glanced up alarmed, but Derek made no movement to acknowledge the sound and he wasn't about to abandon the other wolf now. He quickly zipped up the front of the jacket and hoped to god that he still didn't have any blood on him.

There was an explosion of noise and lights as a shotgun armed officer burst through the bushes. It was Deputy Wells and his K9 Rocky. Rocky, Stiles like well enough, but Nathanael Wells was a giant asshole. He'd run against his father for Sheriff two years ago and had never gotten over loosing. The man was a bigot and an idiot – and somehow the only person in Beacon Hills that seemed to have enough instinct left to tell that there was something off about the Stilinskis. He'd been trying to get his dad fired ever since. The only person he hated more than his father was probably Stiles. Out of everyone who had to find them, of course it had to be Wells. The Deputy took one look at the two of them, then the body, and flipped the safety off his gun.

 _Fuck my life,_ Stiles thought bitterly, both hands flying up as the shotgun was leveled at him.

“Woah, hold on! We just found her here like this, I swear, and-”

“Step away from the body, both of you, and put your hands up.”

“Wells! Come on, it's just me!”

Which was possibly the _worst_ thing to say given the human's immeasurable dislike of Stiles.

The shotgun shifted to Derek and Stiles stiffened, alarm flaring brightly in his chest. “Step away from the body and get your hands up! Now!” Derek didn't move, still staring at his sister's body with a glazed expression. “I'm not going to ask again!”

 _Alright_ , Stiles thought darkly, _Derek's definitely flown the coop._

Not that he blamed him, the teenager had no idea what he'd done if he found his dad like this. Protectiveness welled up inside his chest, fierce and hot. He owed Derek. The poor man had just lost his sister, the last thing he needed was to deal with a prick like Wells. He stepped in front of the unmoving wolf, interrupting the line of fire bodily. “Look, it's his sister. He's in shock. Can we just please calm the hell down and _stop pointing guns?_ That's not gonna help anything right now.”

“His sister, huh?” Wells asked with a sneer, “and you two just happened to find her body.”

“We didn't happen on anything.” Stiles snapped back, trying to keep the growl out of his voice. “Derek's an old family friend. Laura came home to visit, when she didn't come back to the house we went to look for her.”

There was the sound of more people coming, probably the rest of the search party and Stiles felt some hope. All he had to do was hold off Wells until someone who actually had a brain showed up. Or his father. As if an on cue, John Stilinski's scent spread quickly across the night forest and Stiles took strength from it.

“Laura? Laura and Derek Hale?” Something in the way the Deputy said the name only managed to worry Stiles even further. “You expect me to believe that you were just walking through the woods and found her body.”

“Yes,” the Delta shot back, an undeniable snarl in his voice this time, “the same way you just did. We _looked.”_

“Stiles!” His father called sharply. He eyes flickered to the body and then to Derek and Wells. His hand shot out, yanking the mouth of the gun down until it pointed at the ground. “Don't you ever point a gun at my son again.”

The warning in his voice was unmistakable and while it sounded completely normal Stiles could hear the threat that laced it, too deep for human ears to pick up. Rocky let out a low whine, tugging backwards on his leash as his handler swallowed hard and took a step backwards.

“Sheriff, your son and his friend were found at the site-”

“Are you alright?” John interrupted, clearing the small space and running greedy eyes over his son's frame as his hands rested gently around the teenager's neck. The Delta nodded, trying to convey everything that happened with his eyes.

“Sheriff,” Wells tried again, redness starting to climb up the sides of his neck, but his father ignored him again. He moved to Derek, pressing a comforting hand on the Beta's shoulder. The wolf startled, looking up at him with wide eyes before glancing around him as if aware of the growing group of police officers for the first time.

“Derek, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it was Laura out here.” He must have heard Stiles' explanation, he realized with no small measure of relief. Derek must have come to the same conclusion because he gave a slow, sluggish nod. His father took off his jacket and slipped it around the Beta's shoulders before dragging Derek to his feet.

Stiles stiffened. Both actions – placing his scent and physically handling Derek so – could easily be read as a challenge and he had no idea if Derek was in the right sort of mind to play along. But the Beta let John pull him to his feet before slipping his arms through the jacket and Stiles let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

“You two shouldn't have come out here.” The Sheriff rebuffed softly. He glanced at his son and Stiles winced; he knew that look all too well. He was going to be grounded _forever._ “Stiles go ahead and take him home. Get him something warm to eat. I'll be home soon.”

“Sheriff!” Wells snapped, now completely red faced. “They were found at the crime scene, they're material witnesses at the least! Protocol says we take them back to the station for questioning immediately.”

“Thank you, Deputy,” his father said evenly, turning to glare at the other man, “for your input. Take him home, Stiles. And stay there this time.”

“Yeah. No problem. Um, come on then, Derek.”

It was surreal, cooking a full breakfast for Derek Hale in his kitchen in Batman pajamas. The Beta was sitting silently at the table, clad in an old pair of his father's plaid sleep pants and a BHPD t-shirt, and hadn't moved once since locating there. Stiles had made coffee, placing it in front of the Beta before scooting it towards him encouraging. Predictably, Derek hadn't touched it.

Still, he hoped the smell of bacon and eggs would coax the silent man into eating. He placed the full plate in front of him and settled into the chair next to him. When it was clear the other wolf wasn't going to eat, Stiles sighed.

“I'm sorry about your sister, but I can't say I wasn't glad you were there. ” Green eyes looked up at him, blank and unreadable like the rest of his face. There was a tension, thick and hard between them, but Stiles continued on. “You saved my life tonight. I am sorry you had to find her like that, though. When I lost my mom, it was like the world ended. It was terrible.”

And just like that the tension was gone and Derek nodded, relaxing slightly before reaching out to the coffee. Stiles let out a sigh of relief at the Beta's movements. “Try to eat something, too. I know it's the last thing you want, but try to. I'm gonna go check on Scott.”

His friend was crashed on their sofa, carefully lying so that the wound on his side wouldn't be put under any pressure. Stiles had cleaned the bite the best he could. It didn't need any stitches, but the fever had started already. He pressed his palm against the human's forehead, brows furrowing at the heat he found there. It was worse than before. He'd almost cried in relief when he'd ran into the human limping home.

If Scott died Stiles didn't know what he'd do.

“He'll survive it.” A gravelly voice said behind him. Derek stood there, forearms resting on the door frame. He looked – Stiles swallowed and dropped his gaze, ashamed of the spike of interest he'd felt at the sight of the handsome Beta, seemingly so large and strong in the narrow space. His sister had just died, goddamn it. What the hell was wrong with him?

“How do you know?” Stiles asked, stroking sweaty bangs back from his friend's forehead.

“His scent is already changing. He'll need as much sleep as he can get.” The teenager nodded, giving Scott one last gentle pet before standing and heading back into the kitchen. He settled back down at his seat, staring at his own cup of coffee blankly. Derek stayed where he was, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame. “He'll need help. Have you ever dealt with a Made before?”

“My dad's one.” The teenager reminded and he hoped it would be enough. He had no idea what it was like for a Made – to suddenly become something he wasn't. He reached out and flinched a piece of bacon from Derek's plate. He chewed slowly, letting his eyes drift close at the simple pleasure of the rich meat.

“And here I thought those were for me.” The Beta said dryly. Stiles gave the older wolf a half-smile, glad to see some sort of life out of him before taking another slice.

“You snooze you lose, man.”

The next morning was the first day of school after the winter break, but his father got both him and Scott _(Scott, who was gloriously alive)_ out of it. Mrs. McCall was guilted into agreement by the supposed trauma that Stiles had gone through by finding a dead body and the blatant, unashamed begging of one single working parent to another.

Derek was just as quiet in the morning, though Stiles was starting to think that it was just how Derek was. He sat on a recliner, watching as Scott freaked out over the sounds coming from the street. The rest of the house was kept silent. The Sheriff had to go into work – not only because of the murder but to keep both of them from being dragged into the station.

The two Betas had gone for a walk to the edge of their property, far enough away that Stiles couldn't hear them and had what looked like a fairly intense conversation. The Delta imagined it had a fair amount of threatening from his father's point. But even from where he stood on the porch, Stiles could see the kindness that had softened John's stance.

Derek had saved his life and lost his sister, so Stiles wasn't surprised when his father had returned and announced that he would be staying in the rarely used guest room. Stiles had to actually open the windows to air the room out. He would have washed the sheets, but the teenager didn't want to put anymore strain on his struggling friend then necessary and their piece of shit washer sounded like a freight train on the best of days.

The two wolves were doing their best to help Scott through his first few hours. He'd taken the news he was a werewolf surprisingly well, the only thing he was seemingly worried about was missing lacrosse try outs the next day.

Typical freaken' Scott.

He gets transformed into a different species and all he worries about is high school crap.

There was a shattering noise as Scott set his coffee cup down a little too hard, breaking the base of it and leaving him holding only the handle. The look on his face was priceless.

Stiles laughed, bringing out a dust pan and broom from the coat closet. “Gotta watch your new hulk strength, buddy. It's hard to get used to, I know. When mine first really kicked in when I was thirteen my dad had to buy an entire new glass set.”

The new Beta gave him a suspicious stare. “Didn't you break my arm in the seventh grade?”

“Hey, I'd just hit puberty, my strength was all over the place. And you did try to steal my Cheetos.” Stiles replied, watching sympathetically as Scott winced at the sound of a car backfiring a block away. “But I did buy you a new game for that, if you recall."

Scott nodded, frowning as he rubbed at his ear. He was quiet for a long moment and then glanced up at him and the Delta froze as the world's biggest, brownest puppy eyes were focused on him. _God, they're like lazer beams of guilt._

“Why didn't you ever tell me? Didn't you trust me?"

“What? Of course I trust you. You're my best friend.” Stiles sputtered. He had been dreading this question. “It's not like that. It's just..."

“We don't tell people about us, Scott.” Derek explained from where he was sitting. “No one knows how people are going to react to that sort of thing.”

“I'm Stiles best friend! His _only_ friend!”

“Hey!”

“Of course I would have believed him!”

“It's not like that, Scott.” Stiles said with a sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “You would have treated me differently – don't look at me like that – you would have. And I didn't want that. Besides, I'd have to get my dad's permission first and there's no way in hell he'd go for that.”

Scott stared at him for a long moment, something hard in his stare that Stiles had never seen before, before nodding. “Yeah, I guess I can get that.” He winced. “When will things stop being so loud?”

“Never.” Derek said dryly and Scott groaned. “But it won't be that bad once you get used to it. Trust me, everything should dial down.”

Scott decidedly did not look comforted. “Should?”

The older Beta shrugged. “I was born like this. But I had Made wolves in my family. They said the first week was the worst, but after that they just sort of adjusted to it all.”

“See? Not so bad, man.” Stiles tried to sound encouraging, patting his friend consolingly on the back. “Dad will have more solid stuff once he gets home.”

“I can't believe your both werewolves. _Werewolves!”_

“Dude,” the teenager said with a chuckle, “you've gotta stop saying that. You're one now, too. Look at it like this, you'll never have an asthma attack again.”

“Yeah, that's true.” Scott sighed. “And I'm...a...Beta.”

“Yep, just like my dad and Derek.”

“But you're not one?”

Stiles winced. This was not a conversation he was looking forward to. Scott was still struggling with the whole 'werewolves were real' thing. Any more new info and his buddy may just explode. “I'm a little different. I'm a Delta. That's...well...it means, um-”

“He's a third.” Derek explained as he sipped his billionth cup of coffee. “It means he can have babies.”

Stiles groaned at the lack of tact before throwing the far too amused looking Beta a glare. While he glad that he was finding any kind of joy after last night, that was just mean. There was a stunned silence and Stiles had managed to count up to eight before his friend erupted into little sputters of _“What?”_

“Werewolves are different than humans.” Derek continued on with the same nonchalant tone, “they have three genders. Thirds are rare, but they do happen.”

“ _What?!”_

Stiles was feeling a touch hysterical as he waved his hands rapidly in front of himself. From his seat to his right, Derek gave him a side long glance. “Look, its not that big of deal. I'm just wired a little bit differently.”

Scott looked a mix between horrified and terrified. “That's not going to happen to me, is it?”

“Don't be stupid, Scott.” The Delta snapped, more then a little offended. Jesus, he knew this was all really weird but did he have to act so disgusted? Derek shifted next to him and suddenly a warm foot pressed against his own. Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath, pushing the hurt away. This was just Scott being Scott, he didn't mean anything by it. And this shit was seriously different. His voice was calmer when he spoke next. “The Bite changes you, but you're still you. It just enhances you, not change what you got.”

“It's really not that uncommon in our communities.” Derek admonished quietly, staring at the other Beta intensely, green eyes set with disapproval. Instinctively the younger Beta shrunk back, dropping his gaze to his feet before clearing his throat.

“Oh.” At least he had the decency to look embarrassed. “Yeah. Sorry, Stiles. But, uhm, you said thirds were rare?”

“They are, but not for whatever reason your thinking.” The larger Beta explained. “The werewolf population is actually pretty small. There are no concrete numbers but I'd say no more than a thousand or so in North America. Out of that, maybe only sixteen percent are Born wolves. A Delta can only be produced from a pure lineage, from two wolves.”

“And he can have babies?”

“Yes, _he_ can.” Stiles said sharply, not liking that they were talking about him as if he wasn't there. “Look, I know it seems strange because humans only have two sexes. When a woman is pregnant, there is a fifty-fifty chance she's going to have a boy or a girl, right? It's the same thing. If two wolves produce a child there is a one third of a chance that it's going to be a male, a female, or a third. That's probably how thirds got their name.”

“And thirds are called Deltas.”

“Yes.”

“And you're a Delta.”

Stiles felt like screaming. They were talking in circles, for christsake, this wasn't that hard! “For the love of – yes, Scott. I am a Delta.”

“But you're saying Deltas are not a rank, like Betas.”

Scott had to be doing this on purpose. “Yes. It's not a rank. Its a _gender_. It kinda sounds like one, I know, but it's not a rank.”

The pressure against the side of his foot increased slightly and Derek took over. “Alpha, Beta and Omega rankings are just that, rankings. Most wolves are Made or Born Betas. Any Beta can become an Alpha or an Omega. They can only become Alphas if they kill one and take their power. They become Omegas if they don't have a pack. But a Delta isn't so much a rank as it's a title. It's up to Stiles to determine where he stands in the pack. A Delta can be the same rank as a Beta. Just like a Delta can become an Omega or an Alpha.”

Stiles started, glancing over at the older wolf in surprise.

“My grandpa said that Deltas were always just...Deltas. Breeders.” The words came out a little bit more strangled then he meant them too. Stiles had never been okay with that idea and the pain from The Breakup was still fairly intense.

Derek actually looked irritated on Stiles' behalf.

“In the forties, maybe. Packs used to keep any breeders – thirds and females - from taking any type of pack leadership. Only assholes believe that now. Wolves don't live in a bubble, Stiles, they evolve with the times just like everyone else. And we don't use the term 'breeders' anymore, it's considered insulting.” Stiles stared at him, eyes wide, and felt some knot in his stomach that had been growing ever since he'd been told what he was uncurl. “And before you ask we don't arrange marriages anymore either. You can mate whoever you want. It varies depending on the pack, but my family had mixed matings. One of my uncles was mated to a human woman. My other uncle was mated to a human male.”

“Seriously?” His grandpa had been a bit of a good ole' boy, which was stunning since his mother had been as liberal as one could be, and would have literally rolled in his grave at either one of those ideas. “That's way more progressive then I'd thought.”

Derek snorted, draining the last of his coffee. “Considering your only source of information was a Delta who constantly thought it was the twenties, I'm not surprised.”

“So, I'm a Beta. And you're a Beta. And Stiles is a Delta but is basically a Beta?” Scott asked, sounding almost desperate.

“We'll go with that for now.” Stiles snorted at the larger Beta's tone. Scott wasn't stupid – well, not really. Just kinda slow on the pickup. “My sister, Laura, was an Alpha. She became an Alpha when my mother died.”

“But your family died in the fire right, so how did Laura become an Alpha?”

The Delta inhaled sharply, staring at his friend in blank disbelief. “ _Jesus,_ Scott.”

“My mother made it out. She was dying. There was no way to save her so Laura did a mercy killing.” Derek's tone was emotionless. “That's how it's done in werewolf packs. When the Alpha gets too old or sick, the strongest Beta or whoever they've chosen helps them move on and inherits the pack.”

“That's...that's...” His friend was visibly repulsed by the idea. Stiles kind of agreed, but he also understood how his kind worked. They were civilized, yeah, but they were also not. When it came down to it, they were werewolves, and that had to be reflected somewhere. “Okay. Okay. But no, that's really not okay.” Scott said after a moment, shaking his head. “That's – look, anything else I should know?"

“Stay away from wolfsbane and mountain ash,” the Delta said quickly, more than willing to move onto safer conversation topics, “and silver can actually hurt us.”

“So the horror movies were right.”

“Everything has a basis in reality.” Derek said, running a finger over the edge of his coffee cup. His face was intense but distant, brows furrowed and the Delta wondered where it was he'd gone. “For whatever reason the chemical compounds of wolfsbane, ash, and silver cause a severe allergic reaction. The Bite's like a virus. Born werewolves are already exposed to it in the womb, but to Made wolves it's like an illness. When a human is exposed to it, their body either adapts to it or it rejects it completely and dies. There's no real research, but the theory is that the humans that survive the turn are affected on a genetic level. For whatever reason, they already have something in their DNA – a dormant mutation, maybe – that allows them to survive exposure to it. Genetically, werewolves and humans are not really different.”

Both Stiles and Scott were staring at Derek in surprise. That was like...ridiculously better than the stuff Stiles had come up with after his own attempt to apply science to the madness that was his life.

Derek shrugged. “Laura went to school for biological engineering. I think she wanted to figure out why we were what we were.”

They passed the rest of the day pretty much like that, explaining things to Scott (and at times, to Stiles too) and teaching him how to use his new body. As four o'clock rolled around the newly minted wolf started to get twitchy and Stiles knew he'd have to let him go back to his house soon, but damn if he wasn't loathed to unleash a werewolf Scott onto the world. As five o'clock came the Delta broke down and ordered a pizza, Scott's favorite, in hope of bribing him to stay longer.

They were still playing their twisted form of twenty questions when the doorbell rang. Stiles jumped up, more than willing to abandon Derek to Scott's insistent (yet really very creative) questions to answer it. The Delta smelt him a split second before he was about to open the door and froze, breath catching loudly, hand inches from the doorknob. The doorbell rang again and he could feel the weight of both Betas eyes on his back. Swallowing hard, Stiles opened the door and gave a weak smile.

“Hey, Danny.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you guys like?
> 
> Don't worry, Scott won't be a dumb Scott. I just love how slow he is on the pick up in the series. I have a friend just like that from the Navy - he's not dumb, not by any means. But god lord, it takes him forever to grasp stuff. Like an irontrap once he does though, memory like an Elephant, but it can be a trying experience, lol. And he's just one of the best guys ever. Like for real, one the good ones. I'm kind of basing my Scott off of him. This is so not Scott bashing. 
> 
> If there are any questions let me know.
> 
> Amended Added AN:
> 
> Okay, so there was rant here. A furious, irritated, sleep deprived rant. But I decided to get rid of it because it was too long and why the hell wasn't I just ignoring the craziness? But I am going to say this:
> 
> Please, feel free to email me at any time. My email is located on my ff.net profile of the same name. But if you are going to email me do it with constructive criticism. Don't just do it to curse me out because you've taken it as a personal affront that I have not portrayed your favorite character how you wanted me to. I'm as dedicated to my fandoms as the next rabid fan, but really guys, it's just a show. Do not take this so seriously. 
> 
> Thanks in advance,
> 
> Rhiw


	3. The Perils of Cooking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “That’s his ex,” Scott whispered, voice low for a human but a shout for a wolf and Stiles fought the urge to turn around and throw his slipper at his friend’s head. He could feel both Betas’ eyes on him and shifted, uncomfortably aware of not only their attention but the death-ray glare that Jackson was sending him from where he perched on the hood of his Porsche.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait guys! I promise it won't be that bad on this story again.
> 
> Hope you like!

**January 17 th, 2011 _-_ Wednesday  
**

_"That’s his ex,”_ Scott whispered, voice low for a human but a shout for a wolf and Stiles fought the urge to turn around and throw his slipper at his friend’s head. He could feel both Betas’ eyes on him and shifted, uncomfortably aware of not only their attention but the death-ray glare that Jackson was sending him from where he perched on the hood of his Porsche.

Danny looked as stunning as he always did; wearing a tight black Henley and dark washed jeans that hugged his frame in all the right places. His hair was styled perfectly, just wild enough that it seemed to bring out the ruggedness of his features, but still looked controlled. And best of all was his eyes – those lovely, dark eyes – that were looking down at him with a hint of worry.

“You look like shit.”

Stiles gave a fond laugh. That was Danny, always straight to the point. “Figures. I haven’t slept yet, been kind of a crazy around here.”

“I heard about it. Everyone has.” _Of course they did,_ Stiles thought dryly, _could BH be any more stereotypical small town?_ Danny looked away, the grip on his bag tightening as his lips pursed. “Look, are you okay?”

_He was worried about his boy._

Except he wasn’t Danny’s boy anymore and Stiles swallowed hard past the aching lump his throat and gave the human a weak smile. “Nothing a good shrink won’t fix.”

“Here,” a notebook was shoved into his hands, “notes from class.”

“Uh, thanks.” Stiles paged through it. It was mostly empty except for a few copies of syllabuses and some scattered notes. The Delta bit his lip, shifting nervously before glancing up at his ex. “Danny, I’m-”

But Danny was already making his way back to Jackson.

“-sorry.” He finished softly, shoulders slumping.  _I miss you. I wish I could take it back._ He watched the Porsche drive off helplessly, feeling the open chasm of misery and biting regret of The Breakup encompass him once again. He shut the door silently, staring bleakly at the wood before turning back to his audience. Both Betas were observing the coffee table as if it was the most interesting thing in the world and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Well, that was horribly awkward.” He announced, tossing the notebook at Scott. The smaller Beta caught it in surprise. “Bout time for you to start heading home, Junior. Maybe if you show that to the Mistress she’ll calm down a bit.”

“Dude, how many times have I told you to not call my mom that? Makes me feel weird.” Scott whined with a shudder as he paged through the notebook. “…this is like full of Trig and Chem stuff.”    

“Yep.” They were the only classes he had shared with Danny, afterall.

“I'm not taking Trig or Chem!”

“Like she’ll notice.” Stiles scoffed, patting his distraught friend on the shoulder. He glanced at the front door wearily. He still rather disliked the idea of leaving Scott alone with this. “Remember, go straight home.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“And text me when you get there. Or if you have any question. And you can just call if you want. Calling's fine. Actually, I’ll be on Skype too so you can Skype me if you want to.”

“Okay.”

“In fact, you know what? I can walk you home – or just come over and hang out. I don’t think anyone would mind, what with the gushing mental trauma and-”

“Stiles!” Scott interrupted loudly, large hands clasping his shoulders. “Breathe, man. I’ll be fine.”

The shorter teen nodded, chewing his lip around a frown as the newly minted werewolf opened the door – and couldn't quite hide his wince at the increased volume. “Still text me when you get home, though.”

“I promise, ma.”

Stiles snorted, pushing the Beta roughly out the door. “Get out of here, ya crazy kid.”

He shut and locked it with a sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at his face in frustration. Scott McCall was a werewolf. Bitten by a rogue Alpha. _Christ. My life.  
_

“He’ll be alright.” It was an echo of his promise from the night before, said with just as much confidence, and Stiles glanced over at him to try and gauge his expression. Derek had shifted until he was staring at the Delta, one long, muscled arm stretched out of the back of the couch, face serious.

“I dunno, man. This is the kid who ate the top off a Crayola scented marker 'cause he thought it would taste like chocolate.” Stiles rebutted with a grin, glancing at the closed door once more before moving to the kitchen to start dinner. They had killed the pizza off almost within minutes of it arriving so Stiles popped his head into the garage, pulling a couple packets of thawing meat he laid out on top of the massive freezer earlier. “Dad doesn’t get off of work until about nine, so we eat pretty late around here. I was thinking of meat stew for dinner. Sound good?”

“Sounds fine.”

The large Beta had relocated to the door frame once more, watching as Stiles moved around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients and utensils with a blind deftness that spoke of an intimate familiarity with his kitchen. The Delta liked to cook, which was good, because his dad was pretty much non-existent around the house during the work week. His pops always cooked on the weekend though, which was awesome ‘cause his dad did grill outs and breakfast like a fiend.

He’d made some serious headway in prep – the carrots and onions were cut and he was half way through quartering the potatoes – and was beginning to feel more then slightly freaked out by the constant weight of Derek’s eyes on his back when the Beta finally broke the silence between them.

“You and Scott are close.”

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. “Been my best friend for, shit, what, seven years now? Yeah, almost eight. He stole my Oreos.”

There was a soft chuckle behind him that made something inside the teenager curl pleasantly. “He stole your Oreos?”

“Oh, yeah he did. Don’t let those big ol’cow eyes throw you off. Kid's a beast when it comes to food.” Stiles said with a quirked smile, “It was my first day. I didn’t take it well – tackled him right there in the cafeteria, almost broke his nose. They called our folks, it was _so_ bad. My poor dad. Here he was, first day on the job, trying to make a good impression and he’s gotta go to the school and bail his kid out.”

Stiles shook his head with a wince as he pushed the mixed vegetables into a large bowl. The only punishment he’d gotten at home had been a rougher than normal scruffing, but the look of pure disappointment on his father’s face, coupled with how soon it was after his mom's death and the Delta had been shamed into days of misery.

“Ms. McCall had me come over to her house and clean all of her windows with Scott. He had to stand on one side as I stood on the other and just stare at each other, all kinds of butt hurt. Eventually we got bored and started pretending we were behind a force field or something equally stupid. Been friends ever since.”

“It’s rare for a wolf to bond that strongly with a human.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles admitted, not quite sure why he was being so opened with the Beta. Perhaps he felt like he owed him or something, after what he’d seen in the woods. “It’s just,” the knife hitched slightly over the meat, “no one else got it. My mom – the pup was turned wrong. We were such a small pack, you know?

And we didn’t know where we could go for help and Grandpa Wes was already in outer space. I was just so angry all the time and Scott’s dad had just walked out on them and, I dunno, we were just angry together for a long time. Until one day, we just weren’t.” The Delta shrugged. He turned, letting out an awkward huff. “That didn’t make any sense, did it?”

He popped a cube of meat into his mouth. The tender meat nearly exploded around his teeth and Stiles sighed softly at the cool, sweet flavor. Man, Jeff their butcher got the _best_ cuts. The teenager ran a quick tongue over his fingertips, greedily catching the last of the juices there before following the trail down and over his wrist. By chance his eyes flickered up and Stiles froze – lips still wrapped around the soft skin under his wrist bone. Green eyes were watching him, the Beta’s face intense as they stared at where his mouth met his arm. Stiles felt his cheeks flush as he pulled his hand away, his heartbeat stuttering loudly in his ears. It was mortifying; the Delta knew the older wolf could hear it. Slowly, Derek’s eyes lifted from his mouth to his eyes.

“I understood it fine.”

The sound of Derek’s voice, somehow even lower than before, made heat crawl up the teenager’s spine and it took him far longer than it should have to connect the Beta’s words as a response to what he'd said earlier. As Stiles watched, the tall wolf pushed off the door frame and crossed the short distance of the kitchen, darkened green eyes never leaving his own. The teenager was drawn tight, every muscle tensed as Derek drew close enough that Stiles was practically bathing in his body heat and scent.

Up close, Stiles could see the blue starburst surrounding the Beta’s pupils as it swirled, expanding and retracting seemingly at random. His instincts were itching under his skin, demanding he break the strange eye contact that the two had fallen into it, but Stiles couldn’t seem to look away. Derek leaned even closer, muscles sliding under the too small t-shirt as he reached around him and plucked a piece of raw meat from the cutting board.

The Delta’s heart was a hard drum in his chest, his skin suddenly a size too small as a tight, churning heat settling in the hollow of hips, just below his belly. Stiles followed the dripping meat as it journeyed up to the Derek's mouth. He was strangely riveted; seemingly incapable of looking away as the thick cube was torn in half by sharp, white teeth before being captivated by the slow flexing of the older wolf’s jaw as he chewed first one piece, then the other. Derek’s eyes never left his face.

And then the Beta was gone, striding casually into the living room.

Stiles let out a choked sound, collapsing weakly back against the counter with a palm pressed against his mouth in the vain hopes of muting his ragged breathing.

_The fuck was that?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope everything was close enough to IC so that it was believable. Poor Danny. He doesn't get why he got dumped. Poor Stiles too, though. He's still hurting from having to breakup with Danny and now he's got all these weird wolf instincts kicking in as well. Nothing like strange, unexplained wolfy mating behavior! Hot or not? Hope I didn't freak anybody out with their little moment of meat seduction. 
> 
> ....
> 
> Oh wow, that meat joke came out way worse then I even thought it would.


	4. Stress Relief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles was at a loss about it all himself. He should be worried, terrified really, about the fact that some super-powered asshole was out there hunting his friends and family. But all the teenager could think about was the bigger Beta’s mouth and teeth and how they’d looked around the peppered meat he’d made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much a thank you for all the bookmarks, comments, and kudos. You guys are amazing.
> 
> Warning: Stiles is legit a hermaphrodite.
> 
> Also,
> 
> Smut. So much smut. And then some more smut.

**January 18 th, 2011 - Thursday  
**

Stiles’ clock was blinking 3:48 at him in angry red and the Delta sighed, rolling onto his back and hiding his face into his pillow. After a second, the teenager let out a frustrated moan and leaned up, flipping his pillow over before settling back down on the now cool fabric. Why the hell was he still up? He hadn’t slept at all the night before and it was already almost time to get up for school. Even for a wolf, that was pushing it.

The teenager wished he could say that it was his own benevolence that had made his night so tortured – that he was so worried for Scott that he just couldn’t let it go enough to sleep. But in reality, it was all about Derek. His room shared a wall with the guest room and he could hear the steady beat of the other wolf’s heart easily. The Beta had only just settled to sleep; he’d been pacing the room and then (working out, maybe?) for an hour or so before stretching out on the squeaky twin bed.

The night had been super awkward. Thankfully by the time his father had returned home, any lingering smells of arousal had been replaced with the sweet scent of cooking stew. He doubted his keen eyed father had missed the tension in Stiles’ form during dinner, but John hadn’t seemed too worried about it. Their conversation revolved around the rouge Alpha, Scott turning, and what it could all mean.  

Stiles was at a loss about it all himself. He should be worried, terrified really, about the fact that some super-powered asshole was out there hunting his friends and family. But all the teenager could think about was the bigger Beta’s mouth and teeth and how they’d looked around the peppered meat he’d made.

He let out another distressed moan, shifting his hips uncomfortably, his already half hard cock filling out even more at the memory. He’d been partially hard ever since he’d lain down. How could he not be? Stiles was a teenager and he had what could only be described as a walking wet dream sleeping a foot away from him.

Why? Why was it bothering him so much? Was it some sort of guilt thing left over from Danny? What had happened wasn't even that big of a deal; Stiles had been way closer to Derek before and the teenager hadn’t even thought twice about it. Derek had practically been spooning with him in the woods and…

_…oh fuck me._

Why the hell did he have to think that? His hips gave a muted thrust into the mattress below, his breath quickening. The stretch of his boxers against his cock felt so good and the Delta couldn’t help but grind down even harder, a pathetic little whimper escaping him. Stiles froze, terrified and guilt ridden as he listened to the house around him. But the steady breathing of both Betas hadn’t changed; both firmly still in sleep.

_Christ_ , it wasn’t fair! Being a teenager was hard enough without being a werewolf. He couldn’t even jack off without the fear of being overheard by his father. His father, whose bedroom was _downstairs._

Maybe…maybe if he was just really quiet…

Stiles slowly slid out of his boxers, careful to keep his motions steady and silent. As long as he didn’t make any sudden loud moves or noises everyone should just keep on sleeping. The teenager reached under his bed and pulled out an old lumpy pillow, still clad in the only remaining dinosaur print of his childhood sheet set, and slid it between his legs. He couldn’t quite help the gasp that escaped him as his bare cock slid against the time roughened cotton and instinctively his knees clamped together. The action folded the pillow in half, forcing its loose stuffing together so that it was firm.

He gave a slow, almost cautious hump and bit his lip hard enough to feel a spike of pain to keep the resulting moan silent. He began moving his hips more forcefully, keeping his movements to more of a sliding roll then a cant so that the mattress would only shake and not dip enough to make noise.

The discomfort Stiles had felt all night was still there, but it seemed less so after each slow drag, almost as if sated, and he couldn’t help the sound of relief that escape him at its lessening. He picked up the pace, feeling his thighs quiver and tighten as the rocking grew more intense, more focused. His heart was racing now, his breath coming in a predictable, breathless pattern. A soft, barely audible hitch as hips dragged back – the raised bumps on the cotton trailing pleasurably over the oversensitive skin of his shaft. And then a long exhale that could barely be considered a gasp as he pushed forward, the dry fabric pulling at his head, parting his slit slightly before he slid back again.

His pillow had been Stiles’ guilty pleasure for a long, long time. Werewolves came into puberty earlier then their human counterparts and Stiles had spent more desperate hours with his pillow between his thighs then he’d like to admit. He kept things slow – not just to keep the volume under control but also because that was just how he liked it.

It was fantastic to tease himself, the pull on his dick growing less and less as the fabric became slicked with precum. His heartbeat was loud and demanding, blood pounding a steady beat in his ears, and Stiles felt light headed from his refusal to pant.

It felt so much dirtier than ever before, with the only thing keeping him separated from the object of his lust a few pounds of plaster and studs. Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d masturbated to something other than Danny (or the ever dependable, delightful Karl Urban of his early fantasies) but the human hadn’t even crossed his mind once.

Normally it was always Danny. He would bring himself off to the thought of Danny around his cock with his fingers buried deep inside Stiles. That image – of that full, clever, warm mouth wrapped around him or the thought of his thick, lacrosse weathered fingers curled inside of him – was normally more than enough to send Stiles skyrocketing to somewhere in the atmosphere. But tonight it only Derek.

Derek, whose fingers were so much bigger. _Everything_ on the Beta was bigger. The Delta bit his lip as hard as he dared (blood scent would be disastrous) as he recalled how it had felt to have that big, broad body pressed against him in the woods. How it had felt to have it hovering over him, with only a scant few inches separating themselves. The heat of it,  _fuck_ , the weight of it. It was a godsend that Stiles hadn’t noticed it at the time; if his body’s current reaction was anything to go by he would have embarrassed the hell out of himself.

Like Derek would want a gangly, unknown teenager.

No, Stiles thought firmly, pushing the sinking feeling that accompanied that thought away. Derek didn’t ever have to know about what he was doing now. He _would_ never know. This was harmless, so there was no reason to bum himself out or ruin it with something like logic.

He trailed a free hand up to tug at his nipples. His breasts were small, the tissue almost non-existant, but his nipples were still incredibly sensative and Stiles could never resist the urge to play with them. He rubbed his wettened thumb around the hardening pebble, circling and flicking it before moving onto its twin. God, he wanted a mouth on them. What would that even feel like? The thought of a mouth, warm and wet and perfect, suckling at his chest was almost too much. Doubly so when he pictured it belonging to Derek. Stiles gave an aborted groan. The pillow was so wet now that he was gliding with ease and while it still felt fantastic, it wasn’t enough and so Stiles shifted slightly, trailing the palm of his hand over his engorged cock before resting all of his weight on his shoulders. The position was uncomfortable, the teenager had to turn his head awkwardly to the side in order to avoid being smothered, but it allowed him to slide his hand back.

He followed the length of his cock to its root, stroking the base of it teasingly with his fingertips. His knot wasn’t impressive by any means. It certainly wasn’t like what he’d seen on his father the one and only (he’d had a stuffy nose, there had been no warning, damn't!) that Stiles had failed to knock at the entrance of John’s room. There was only the slightest of swelling there, the barest of give by the skin. From what he understood from the limited yet detailed notebook his grandpa and mother had made for him at the start of Wes’ decline, a Delta’s knot was a left over biological function – like a human’s appendix or wisdom teeth. A Delta could participate as the thrower in penetrative sex, but the chances of actually impregnating anyone without a solid knot was slim to none. Even if he’d had a larger one, Stiles had little chance of fathering a child.

Werewolves were notoriously hard to become pregnant and it was even harder to actually carry a child to term. No one was sure why, but the basis for it was probably why they had evolved a knot at all. And Stiles, as a Delta, produced much less semen then his Alpha and Beta counterparts. His cock was basically useless – a vestigial organ.

That didn’t mean it didn’t feel good as hell to touch though.

The teenager let out a loud gasp as he squeezed the swollen skin, his hips jerking instinctively down into his loose fist, and went utterly still as the steady thump of Derek’s heartbeat jumped and there was the sound of a sharp inhale. For a terrifyingly long moment Stiles just listened to the sounds on the other side of the wall. But the Beta’s heartbeat quickly lowered back to normal and Derek’s breathing calmed. _He must be dreaming,_ he thought with no small amount of relief.

Stiles would have waited longer still in his fear, but his body didn’t seem keen on allowing it. His cock twitched in his hand, precum leaking liberally and the wonderful, terrible ache that had settled between his hips had grown far past the point of ignoring. He gave his knot one last, firm squeeze, mind still locked on the sounds of the next room, before allowing his hand to travel down even further. At the first touch of the warm wetness he found there, any worries Stile might have had about being overheard disappeared entirely.

He teased around the wet folds, carding his fingers until the lips were trapped between them and squeezed, pressing the heel of his palm against his knot.

The way the teenager felt about this part of his body (his… _vagina)_ was mixed. To some extent he hated it. It was what made him so different. It was the reason why Stiles didn’t shower with the rest of the team and went home stinking after lacrosse. The reason why Jackson and every other beefed up, overly confident human male at school thought he was easy pickings. They took his unwillingness to be seen totally naked as weakness of his person, of an extreme shame of his body that must mean it really, really sucked.

It was why he broke up with Danny, why Stiles could never take a human lover. Because there was no way in hell they could ever be able to accept that where he should have a sack, the Delta had a pussy. It wasn’t even hidden. Maybe if it was Stiles could have come up with some sort of lie about retractile testes, lord knows no one at school was probably smart enough to really know what it meant.

But there was no hiding what he had there.

Especially not when it was like this.

The Delta felt his eye lids flutter at the strength of the heat he felt against his hand. He was _so, so_ wet, so warm down there. And this was why he couldn’t hate it, as shallow as it was. Because there was nothing in the world better then when he first slid his fingers into himself. Nothing that could ever compare to the way that ache was beautifully, irrevocably soothed. Nothing that could duplicate the slow stretch and slide of his muscles giving away, the wonderful feeling of _finally_ being filled.

Human males had no idea what they were missing.

Stiles’ breath hitched loudly as he finally curled a finger into himself. He forced himself to keep it to only one – though he had given in enough to make it his middle finger. The teenager shuddered, eyes rolling back slightly as he pressed fleetingly on the raised grouping of nerves of his prostate. He played around a little longer, dragging his finger in and out at a painfully slow pace, finger tip butting against that sweet spot in a gentle poke. But it didn’t last – it never did, when it got this point – and Stiles slid a second and then a third finger into himself. He couldn’t keep himself from bucking back onto his fingers. The teenager's mouth dropped open, eyes shuttering at the feel of it, each thrust was a firm stab against his prostate and the sensitive channel around it, and at the wet, sopping sound it made. His free hand slid down as well, tugging roughly at his cock, dragging the foreskin up and over his head.

Perhaps if there was anything good about being a Delta it was this; that Stiles had the best of both genders. The feel of his fingers thrusting so deeply inside himself while he pumped his length was amazing.

Stiles was close – so close. He threw himself into it, canting his hips roughly between both hands, his breath coming in short, ragged pants. So, so close. He was right there – _god,_ right _there_ and –

When the Delta came it was to Derek. To the sound of his heartbeat, to the remembered feel of his weight atop him, the way the Beta had carried him - as if Stiles had weighed nothing. And, bizarrely, to the flash of teeth, digging and tearing with such ease.

When Stiles came back to himself he was panting, still trapped bonelessly between his hands. He gave a low whimper as he pulled his fingers out of himself. He wiped the excess juices on the pillow between his legs before pulling it free. It was with practiced movements that the Delta reached below the bed and tugged a small, scented trash bag from the container there and stripped the pillow of the streaked and stained fabric. He stuffed it into the plastic, tying it off and the unmistakable smell of sex disappeared behind a wall of chemical freshness before shoving it and the abused pillow back into its hiding place. He’d wash it the next time he was home alone.

Stiles let out a contented sound as he sunk against his mattress. The tension from before was completely gone and sleep was pressing down insistently. He curled on his side, brown eyes soft with exhaustion as he stared at the wall, and he allowed himself to try and imagine what the stern Beta would look like in sleep. Stiles knew he was going to freak out – hard and long – in the morning about what he’d just done. But for now he was wondrously loose and satisfied, content to drift off to the steady constant of Derek’s heartbeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was Derek awake? I'd like to think so, but that's for you to decide.
> 
> Expect the next chapter soon. Hope you guys enjoyed it!


	5. Wolf Moon, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Nothing. It’s just…did Jackson seem…weird?”
> 
> “Nope,” the Delta said, popping his lips on the end. Scott had had enough revelations this week. If he learned his constant bully had some sort of (odd, odd) second grade hair pulling thing for him, his head may literally explode. “Seemed the same old asshat. Why?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, you guys seemed pretty set on Derek being awake. I plan on throwing in little interludes every now and then from other character's point of views. Perhaps I'll add Derek's POV of what happened in one of those.
> 
> Also, there has been some questions about Stiles' workings. Basically, he has a dick with testes that are inside his body (they don't hang down) and on a normal male where the testes are located is his fully functioning vagina. Given the placement of the internal testes, his prostate is where a woman's gspot would be. He also has an asshole. It is just an asshole. 
> 
> Some others have noted that I call Stiles a Delta a lot. That's because Stiles thinks of himself as a Delta. It's a title and his gender and one he's had his whole life. It is a bit dehumanizing, but its kinda supposed to be. I want to create a unique, different culture for the werewolves that also ties into their human origins yet capture the animalistic, harsh nature of a hardcore predator like a wolf.

**January 18 th, 2011 - Thursday**

Morning came far too quickly for Stiles.

He got to school early for perhaps the first time ever. The parking lot was only half full when he parked the jeep in his assigned spot and settled in to wait for Scott. His friend had texted him when he woke up, which had also been earlier then the norm – _(dude, I could hear my neighbors’ alarm going off, wtf)_ – and when he’d left the house. The Delta had wanted to pick him up and drive him, but the new wolf had refused it so here he was.

So maybe Stiles was hovering. Just a little bit. Okay, so he was doing a lot of hovering. He was practically smothering the new Beta, but he couldn’t help it. He was worried. Scott seemed alright when he’d left yesterday, but there was a real difference between safety and security of the Stilinski home, (which was purchased because it was at the end of a quiet street, in a quiet neighborhood, on the edges of town that was practically carved out of the reserve) and the rest of the world.

And maybe, just maybe, he’d left so early to eliminate any chances of seeing Derek.

Good lord, that was a whole ‘nother package of what the actual fuck. He didn’t think the Beta had been awake during his moment of weakness but Stiles couldn’t believe he'd been stupid enough to do that so close to Derek.

_Damn hormones._

Stiles groaned, thumping his head against his head rest.

What was wrong with him? He’d been broken up with Danny for two weeks and here he was, losing his shit over some complete stranger. An admittedly tall, freakishly gorgeous stranger, but still! Stiles rubbed at his eyes in frustration. It wasn’t fair that Derek was as hot as he was. Seriously, Stiles was trying to mourn the loss of the love of his life here! But…what did that really say about him and Danny? That a pretty face could just push him from his mind so easily? It hurt to think what it meant, to think that their relationship really was just one of those cliché teen romances that came and went. Not when Stiles had felt it to be so much more…

It had to be more than that, it had to be. Stiles had loved Danny, right? It had to be because Derek was another wolf. This was all some sort of weird, wolf thing that he'd probably never really understand and just have to learn to live with. Just like most things in Stiles life. And if it was a wolf thing, didn’t that mean he should just accept it? His father had always said to follow his instincts, but would he still say that if he knew that all of Stiles’ instincts were screaming at him to lie down, bare and wet, and present himself before a strange werewolf?

It was almost insane – how much the older wolf had invaded Stiles’ every thought.

Maybe it was just because Derek was new, something different and exotic. Maybe after they got to know each other, Stiles wouldn’t be attracted to him at all. Maybe Derek had a terrible personality, like a bad anger or was super racist or some other red card that would stop everything in its tracks.

And why did he feel disappointed by that thought?

The Delta opened his eyes, frowning as he stared up at the sky through his open jeep top. He should be relieved that his interest in Derek would probably fade. Especially since there was no way the other wolf would reciprocate them. Derek was years older than him; twenty three to Stiles’ sixteen. He had a college degree, he’d lived in a big city, fought hunters and other packs with his sister. What on earth would a grown man like that want with a boy like Stiles? If anything, the Delta should pray that this was some passing crush, because chances were that the older wolf was going to be staying with them for a while and the sooner he got over this, the sooner the teenager would stop embarrassing himself. And the sooner that happened, the sooner Stiles could actually start a genuine friendship.

The parking lot was growing full and so Stiles banished such complex thoughts and stepped out, shrugging on his backpack and making his way over to the bike rack. He needed all his energy just to face school on a normal day; much less one where he had to make sure a baby werewolf didn't freak out and gut any teachers. He didn't have any time to be wasting on these types of thoughts. Stiles had only just reached the rack when Scott came gliding in and the Delta couldn’t deny the surge of relief he felt at seeing his friend safe and whole.

He gave a friendly wave as Scott dismounted and guided the bike into the rack. “Sleep well?”

“Everything was too loud,” the teen grumbled grumpily. “Seriously. So loud.”

He gave the taller teen a smile. “Derek said you should get used to it soon.”

“Yeah,” Scott said dryly, _“should.”_

“You gonna to be okay today?”

“Yeah. I just hope-”

Stiles winced as the silver metal of a car door bumped harshly into Scott’s side. The Beta stumbled, brown eyes wide and in full puppy mode as he turned to stare at the Porsche that had pulled up behind them. Jackson stepped out, looking far more attractive and fit then he had right to as a human, and paused. The older teen slowly removed his sunglasses, leaning over to check his car door for damage before shutting it and rounding on Scott.

“Hey, Nerdette,” Jackson growled out, eyes narrowed, “watch the car.”

His posturing was as aggressive as ever, crowding into the shorter teen's space as he glared him down. Jackson had always been a jackass – at least for as long as Stiles had been in the Beacon Hills school system he'd been one. He came from money and with his looks and natural athletic-ness, the blond had been destined for the cool crowd. Jackson had always picked on the two of them throughout the years. It was one of the few consistencies the two could count on in life. It had lessened somewhat when the Delta had made first line in lacrosse and subsequently started dating Danny. Most of the time he just ignored Stiles presence completely.

But Scott, well. There was something about Scott that seemed to be impossible to ignore for the overcompensating ass. Yeah, Scott was nerdy and dewby with his asthma and general, all-encompassing cluelessness, but he was also pretty much the definition of a wall flower; easily ignored. Yet Jackson never missed a chance to needle him. For a long time, Stiles hadn’t been able to figure it out.

Until he got old enough to begin to understand what a heartbeat told about a person.

He would have liked to have said that particular scarring revelation explained everything, but it really, really didn’t. Because while he’d always been supportive of Danny, as far as Stiles could tell, Jackson had only ever dated girls. And while the teenager admittedly didn’t give much of his attention to the arrogant teen unless he absolutely had to, Stiles had never seen him even check out a dude. And given his particular set of talents, it would have been kind of hard to miss if the blond had been turned on. But it was hard to dismiss when he could hear the way Jackson’s pulse picked up whenever he neared Scott.

Jackson shot him a downright evil glare, not even bothering to waste his time insulting him, before he all but swaggered into the school building.

“Charming as ever.” Stiles muttered. Scott was staring after him, head cocked ever so slightly in confusion. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s just…did Jackson seem…weird?”

“Nope,” Stiles said, popping his lips on the end. Scott had had enough revelations this week. If he learned his constant bully had some sort of _(odd, odd)_ second grade hair pulling thing for him, his head may literally explode. “Seemed the same old asshat. Why?”

Scott shrugged, still frowning before moving up the stairs.

Stiles took a deep breath before letting it go with a whoosh and following his friend up the stairs.

_Well, here goes nothing._

After practice found the two teenagers at Stiles' house. Practice had been a resounding success, with Scott’s new strength pretty much a guarantee he’d have a shot at realizing his dream of starting first line. It had occasionally been a point of contention and jealous spats in the past between them, but most of the time it was just a painful amount of self-deprecation and emo-ness every time Scott had to sit on the bench while Stiles played. Looked like his days of guilt were coming to an end. Couldn’t get more awesome then that. Plus, apparently the new Beta had managed to attract a female for once. The pretty new girl, a brunet named Allison, had actually seemed interested too, despite the fact that she’d slipped into the in-crowd fairly quickly. The wolf juice was straight up a miracle worker.

His dad was waiting for them at home to help work with Scott on mastering his new abilities. John was in civilian clothes for once; jeans, sandals and a severely faded Grateful Dead t-shirt. Derek was there as well, as apparently he’d spent most of his day down at the Sherriff’s Office giving his statement. Both Betas were fairly rumpled looking and annoyed, but they seemed to have vegged out with some beers and nachos. John had taken them to the back and began to strap a heart rate monitor onto Scott as he directed Derek and Stiles into a crude circle around the newly turned Beta.

“The key,” his father said after a moment, “is to stay calm. You have to keep your emotions under control.”

“Don’t hulk out,” Stiles translated gleefully.

“Thanks, Stiles.” Scott drawled dryly, “I think I managed to catch that on my own.”

“Just checking.”

“Stiles,” John warned.

“Shutting up.”

“Good boy. When you’re angry or scared or turned on-” the Sherriff received a series of disgruntled looks at that, which he dutifully ignored, “- your body releases adrenaline. When it floods your system, your heart rate skyrockets. You get the shakes, you breathe harder.”

“Like during my asthma attacks.”

“Just like that. It’s called fight or flight. Your body is pumping you full of chemicals so that you can handle whatever’s happening.” John finished attaching the monitor and stepped back. “I’m not saying that you should be trying to never get worked up again, you just need to figure out how to handle things differently. Being a werewolf is actually pretty delicate, things tend to effect us more then with humans, and you've got to learn where your new emotional limits are.”

“Like the Hulk.”

_“Stiles.”_

The Delta scoffed. “You can’t just leave an opening like that and not expect me to take it.”

“Stiles.”

Stiles sighed, ignoring the amused look Derek shot him. “Fine.”

“So, we’re going to practice getting you upset so you can see where your limit is.” The Sherriff explained, trotting over to where their garden shed was. “Over time you’re going to find that it gets easier and easier to control yourself. But it’s going to take practice and patience, okay?”

Scott nodded. “Sounds good. So, what are you gonna do?”

“Remember that time when you and Stiles wouldn’t stop poking Ms. Delilah’s cat and it got so mad it had a heart attack?”

“…yeah.” The Beta said slowly, clearly not enjoying where this was going. That incident had caused his dad a lot of grief. As the responding officer to the 911 call, he had had to deal with hours of the old woman's shrieking and righteous anger.

John’s smile turned sharp before tossing a pair of long, pointed sticks to the circled wolves. “You’re the cat.”

The following three hours were some of the best of the young wolf's life.

Scott was far less amused.

By the end of it, Stiles was admittedly feeling a little guilty, especially as all manner of stress had completely disappeared from both the older Betas at some point during the massive bouts of poking, but there was no denying the fact that Scott’s resistance had upped. They said goodbye for the night after a rewarding dinner of steak, potatoes, and more steak, and for the first time in days Stiles watched him go with slightly less fear than normal.

Everything was going so well, he should have known the other shoe was going to drop soon.

And damn, did it drop.

Friday found them at Stiles’ again, though the Delta had to promise there would be no homemade spears involved this time. Scott was still looking around wearily when they settled in the den, as if he expected John to just pop out of the wood work and go after him. There was no one home but them, though. They had real privacy for the first time in days; Pop was still at work and Derek had agreed to run down and grab them some Jimmy Johns.

Derek had been surprisingly persistent in his watch of the two youngest wolves. Apparently at some point an agreement had been made between him and his father that Derek would keep a close eye on them both. Stiles had caught his scent around school every day since Scott’s bite and he’d actually driven the younger Beta home from practice today. Scott, of course, used the moment to gush about his newest obsession; _Allison._ Stiles watched with no small amount of amusement as his friend blushed, stuttered, and looked terrified all at once as he described in a painful amount of detail his conversations with his new squeeze.

Stiles didn’t even feel any of the normal irritation he'd normally have felt upon realizing he’d heard the _same freaken story_ three times. Scott was happier then Stiles had seen him in a long time. How could he not enjoy that? As freaked out as he was about this whole thing at first, Stiles actually thought this was gonna be okay. Scott was seemingly adjusting to his new life with flying colors. Scott was enjoying a new found camaraderie with the team due to his improved skills and even Lydia Martin had stopped to wish him a good morning today. _And_ he had a date with something other than his left hand.

Yet, as much as Stiles hated to ruin the mood, they did need to talk.

Scott had been doing stupidly better at lacrosse and people were starting to notice. Not to mention, Scott had almost broken Greenberg’s shoulder with a smidgen too enthusiastic of a block. He hated to say it, but maybe such a physical sport wasn’t good for a brand spanking new werewolf with control issues.

 “- and I thought she’d just ignore me, you know? But-”

 “- she gave you your number and smiled.” Stiles finished, almost verbatim. Scott pouted, throwing a popcorn with deadly accuracy at the Delta’s head.

“Shut up, you. This girl is perfect, Stiles.” Scott said with a soft sigh. “Seriously, thank god she came to watch lacrosse, you know? I don’t know if she’d talked to me with whatever bullshit Jackson was telling her about me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles rolled his eyes. He hesitated for a moment, then, “look, I actually wanted to talk to you about lacrosse.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s great that you’re probably gonna start, but I think you need to tone everything down a bit.” Scott gave him a confused look and Stiles sighed, running a hand across his shorn hair. “You need to cool some of this ninja shit down. People are starting to notice. Plus, you don’t know your own strength, yet. You could really hurt someone out there. Maybe just take a break for a while, okay?”

“You don’t want me to play?”

Stiles knew that tone way too well and he quickly held his hands up placating, “That came out wrong. Look, I’m not saying don’t use your strength because, hell, I do so that would be a bit hypocritical of me. Just play it down a bit. You’ve drawn way too much attention to us and trust me, that’s dangerous for our kind. Just…go back to sucking. Not the whole way, just a little bit.”

“If I suck a 'little bit' more Coach won’t start me.” Scott’s voice was definitely taking a hostile edge.

Time to try a different tactic. “Do you see me flipping like a crazy man out on the field? Or sending Greenberg flying? No, because I play myself down. And I’m still a starter.”

“That’s different. You’ve had years to get used to how to do this stuff, plus you've been good from the start. You don't have to prove what I do; I can’t just tone it down. I have to play like that or I’ll lose my chance. I am _not_ sitting on the bench again!” Scott’s was standing, face red and eyes taking a distinctively amber hue.

“Okay, okay!” Stiles said quickly, trying to deescalate the situation. “I’m sorry, buddy. I wasn’t trying to piss you off. Look. It’s seriously close to the moon, we’re both a little on edge. We can talk about this later.”

“Whatever.” Scott bit out, plopping back down on the couch, arms crossed, but the tenseness and anger around the Beta’s face lessened despite his grouchy moves. “When do I need to be here for the full moon?”

Stiles paused mid-shovel, perplexed, popcorn falling through his fingers. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I mean, what time do we start to change?”

“Oh,” Stiles shrugged, “it’s different every moon. But you start to feel it as soon as the moon begins to rise. Usually by the time it reaches its zenith things get real. You’ll get all twitchy and be stronger than ever. Sometimes we can even lose control of ourselves and go nutts if the pulls too strong.”

Scott looked puzzled, chewing on his nail. “So what time the moon rise tonight?”

“I dunno, like seven forty-five or something. Derek knows for sure.” Stiles frowned, watching his friend fidget. “You only try to eat your thumb when something’s up. What’s wrong?”

“Well, I’ve got a date with Allison tonight, so I’m trying to figure out-”

“You what?” Stiles nearly shouted, leaping to his feet and spilling the bowl of popcorn across the carpet.

The Beta stared up at him, mouth open in alarm, "I told you I had a date!"

“You didn't say it was for _tonight!_ What the hell, Scott. You can’t go on a date tonight!”

“What? Why not?”

“Why not – it’s the full moon tonight!” Were they seriously having this conversation? Seriously? “It’s your first full moon. You need to stay here with me and Derek and Dad in case you wig out. You can’t go out on a _date!”_

“I can’t cancel on Allison.” Scott stated firmly, arms crossing. The Delta gaped - he'd seen that particular jut of his friend’s chin enough times to know that Scott was damned and determined to fight this till the end - before making an executive decision to bypass all that shit and snapped Scott's cell phone off the coffee table and pulled up his contact list. “What are you doing?”

“Canceling your date, you idiotic ass. You can’t just-” Suddenly the cellphone was ripped from his hands as the other wolf glared down at him, disgruntled.

“I am not ditching Allison.” Scott declared stubbornly, thumbing through his messages to make sure Stiles hadn’t sent anything. “I’ll just…make sure I’m back before anything happens.”

“How the hell are you gonna do that?” He demanded, shaking his head angrily, “Jackson’s party doesn’t even start till nine. Are you even listening to yourself?”

“I can’t cancel. Don’t you understand?” Scott voice was hard, his fist clenched around his cellphone. “I really like her.”

“You’ve known her for two days, Scott. You don’t know _shit_ about her.”

“Just because you fucked up with Danny and are miserable, doesn’t mean I have to be.” The Beta snapped harshly, turning from him as if to start towards the front door. “Stop trying to ruin this for me, Stiles.”

Stiles stared at him in disbelief, mouth slack with hurt before storming forward, hand shooting out to grab Scott’s elbow. “I am not going to let you go out and get yourself-”

Scott swirled around, eyes a brilliant, glowing amber and Stiles barely had time to jerk backwards as a clawed hand swiped as his face. He wasn’t quite fast enough, though, and Stiles gasped as he felt the skin on the bridge of his nose and left cheek split. He shrunk away, pressing himself against the brick side of the fire place, hands clasped over his bleeding nose, staring at Scott as if he'd never seen him before. The anger was gone completely – both shocked out of it by the violence of the uncharacteristic move. Stiles could tell from the slant of Scott's features that he regretted it as soon as he struck out. The poor kid probably had no idea what had even made him act so far out of character and a part of Stiles wanted to tell him that it was fine, that it was no big deal, that he was already forgiven. But his nose _hurt_ , damn't, and he wasn't gracious enough to offer comfort just because he understood.

The strained silence was broken by the sound of a click and both wolves turned to find Derek standing in the open door, face unreadable as he took in the scene before him. The scent of the take out mixed with the blood, filling the living room with a bizarre piquant of smells. The large Beta's eyes flickered from Stiles, taking in his blood streaked face and his defensive positioning, to Scott and his stained hand. The plastic Jimmy John's bag dropped to the floor and Stiles had just enough time to think _oh shit_ before Derek was launching himself at Scott.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear. Scott what did you do!
> 
> And poor Stiles. I remember how I felt when I realized my major highschool love meant jack shit. Seriously, where do people get the idea that teenagers mate for life?
> 
> And yeah, Jackson/Scott is the next pairing. I can't help it. I have a problem. I ship them sooooo hard.


	6. Wolf Moon, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would never hit Allison!”
> 
> The Delta jumped when Derek’s hand unexpectedly gripped his chin, tilting his face so that the bloody skin and healing pink scratches could easily be seen in the dim lighting. “Just like you would never hit Stiles?”
> 
> The silence that filled the room was deafening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments, kudos and bookmark guys!
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter.
> 
> Unbetaed.

**January 19 th, 2011 - Friday**

Derek was a blur of movement and Stiles winced as the whole house frame shook from the impact of Scott hitting it. It was pure luck that the wall the teenager had been shoved up against was painted brick or else he’d have gone through the plaster for sure. Derek held the younger Beta up almost a foot in the air single handedly, face twisted in an angry snarl as Scott’s sneakered feet kicked desperately. The teen was frozen mid-shift, eyes wide and a deep amber as clawed finger tips dug into Derek's hand. The actions didn't seem to faze the older wolf, if anything his grip seemed to tighten with each frantic scratch. When Scott finally drew blood Derek let out a low, warning growl that Stiles swore he could feel reverberating in his own chest.

The sound shook the stunned Delta into action and Stiles threw himself forward, both arms wrapping around Derek's with the intent of yanking him off of Scott. But the larger wolf didn't budge and Stiles ended up standing on his tip-toes, hanging awkwardly off Derek’s forearm.

“Derek, let him go!” Stiles demanded. Scott was starting to turn a startling shade of mauve, his eyes bulging slightly around the edges, “he can’t breathe, Derek!”

Bright blue eyes darted over to him, livid. “He hit you.”

Stiles felt his breath catch because, goodness, wasn’t that the loveliest edge just there? But then Scott let out a ragged, wheezing gasp and the teenager was wrenched back into reality. He squeezed the large Beta’s arm, ignoring the fact that the rock hard muscles didn't give an inch, and made his voice calm and commanding.

“I know. And he’s sorry, aren’t you Scott?” His friend managed a half nod, “see? He's sorry. I’m fine, it’s already healed. It’s the moon, Derek, he didn’t mean it, he’s practically a puppy. You need to let him go now, because if you kill my best friend I'm gonna be pissed. Dad's gonna be pissed. More importantly, _Melissa_ is gonna be pissed and while I know you don't know Ms. McCall, trust me when I say that's a valid threat.”

Eyes flashed over to him once more before Derek let out a long exhale from his nose and slowly lowered Scott back on the ground. Scott immediately took a deep, shaky inhale - well as much as he considering there was still a fist wrapped around his neck.

“First rule, _puppy,”_ Derek spit out, voice low with warning, “you never hit pack mates in anger. Your pack is all you got – they’re closer than family, they’re a part of you. Got it?”

“Y-Yeah.” Scott managed, voice totally wrecked. It was kind of amazing, a part of Stiles recognized, that despite the fact that he’d been a werewolf all of three days the new Beta somehow knew how to submit. Scott had dropped his chin, shoulders tucked close to his chest, eyes looking anywhere but Derek’s face, hands hanging limply by his side.

Instinct was a powerful thing, apparently, even if it was only days old.

“Secondly,” Stiles let out a very undignified sqwak as Derek slammed Scott against the wall once more, “if I ever catch you hitting a female or a third again without a fantastic reason, I will gut you.”

And while Stiles knew that he should be offended by that chivalrous yet rather outdated statement – after all, the Delta was more than capable of defending himself, thank you very much, and he was firm believer that if someone was attacking you, you should defend yourself regardless of gender – he couldn’t deny the pleased feeling it evoked.

“Are we clear?”

“Crystal.” Scott whimpered. Derek released him, stepping back a pace, his body angled so that he stood slightly between them. Scott rubbed at his healing throat before turning mournful eyes to Stiles.

“Stiles. Stiles, man, I’m so freakin’ sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t even know what happened.” His friend looked like he was about to cry, bringing a hand up to card through his hair. “I just got so angry and – I dunno. So much weird shit’s been going on. I mean, I had this crazy dream that I was running from the Alpha and when I woke up I was in Mr. Windtho’s pool.”

“Isn’t that like three miles from your house?”

“Three and half, yeah.”

“And none of this was a big, blinking red flag that, _I dunno,_ maybe you shouldn’t be going on a date tonight?” Stiles couldn’t resist the jab.

“You wanted to go on a date?” Derek’s tone left no doubt of how smart of an idea he thought that was.

Scott flushed, looking down at his shoes as he kicked at the shag carpet. “It’s just…no one’s ever been interested in me before, you know? I didn’t want to miss my...my…well…it was gonna be my first date.”

“Jesus,” Derek let out a groan, bringing a hand up to rub at his face and Stiles could almost hear his thoughts; _teenagers._ “Look, Scott, what do you think would have happened if you lost it on your date, hm? Maybe you ran into – what’s his name – ‘Jackass Jackson’ and he pissed you off and Allison grabs you to-”

“I would never hit Allison!”

He jumped when Derek’s hand unexpectedly gripped his chin, tilting his face so that the bloody skin and healing pink scratches could easily be seen in the dim lighting. “Just like you would never hit Stiles?”

The silence that filled the room was deafening.

“Or maybe it’s you and your mom who fights and she grabs you. You wanna do this to your mom?”

Scott was blinking hard against tears now, his features completely human. “I-I…”

Derek shook Stiles face gently by the chin. “Let this be your anchor, Scott, the thing that keeps you from losing control. Because most of the time, this isn’t just being awesome at lacrosse or being able to run around like Ezio,” Stiles blushed here as well, as he had joined Scott in gleefully recreating scenes from the game earlier during lunch. “Humans don’t get to heal themselves like this. If you’re lucky you’ll just scar them for life. Most likely though? You’re going to end up killing someone.”

Stiles swallowed hard as his face was released. A part of him wanted to reach over and gather his friend in a bone crushing hug, but something in the look Derek shot him kept him frozen in place. He knew this was needed, that something had to happen to shock Scott into realizing how serious this was – because, obviously, the teenager hadn’t really thought through what had happened to him.

“I…yeah. Everything’s just been going so great - I mean, I’m not popular or anything but-” he let out a disgusted sound, “man, do you even hear me? I’ll just go call Allison.”

Stiles sighed, watching as he stepped out into the backyard, shutting the door behind him. Scott was clearly embarrassed and regretful; his scent littered with the smell markers of conflicting emotions. As he watched, the Beta stared dejectedly at his cell phone before squaring his shoulders and raising it up to his ear.

“So,” the Delta turned to stare at Derek, head cocked to the side, “that was kind of harsh.”

The older wolf shrugged as he retrieved the bag of food, handing it to Stiles before disappearing into the kitchens. “Puppy needed a reality check.”

Stiles made a face as he peaked in to check on the state of the food. “Puppy?”

“Seems fitting enough.” Derek said as he returned, tossing a wet paper towel at him. “Besides, you said it.”

That was true. He hoped Scott forgave him, Stiles thought with a grimace as he scrubbed at his face, as he had a feeling it was going to be sticking around. He tossed the wet towel into the corner trash can, settling in front of the coffee table. There was the sound of a deep, bone-rattling sigh from outside and Stiles winced in sympathy as he listened to Scott's pitiful attempts to form a sentence and Allison's less than enthusiastic tone.

“Have you ever heard of anything like that?” At Derek’s blank look, Stiles clarified, gesturing with his drink as he pulled out his sandwich. “The sleepwalking?” Dereks’s face took a distinctively stormy appearance. “What? What’s that face for?”

“There’s a chance that the Alpha could be controlling him.”

Stiles paused mid-unwrap. “What?”

“Made wolves have a unique relationship with the Alpha that turns them," Derek explained as he settled on the couch arm behind him, "something about the Alpha sharing a part of their essence when they bite them. I’ve never seen it myself, but supposedly they can take remote control of their Betas." Stiles felt his jaw drop, twisting at the waist so he could stare up at him. Derek shrugged. "The Alpha can implant ideas or suggestions that the Beta will carry out even if they're not aware of it.”

“But...but you’ve never seen it, right?" Derek shrugged again, his face unreadable as he watched Stiles' growing panic. "So maybe you’re wrong. I mean that sounds so farfetched! Mind control?” And then Stiles did that horrible sounding, high pitched squeal/he-haw laugh he did when really, really nervous or uncomfortable because that couldn't even remotely be allowed to happen. “That’s some crazy supernatural shit.”

And while technically their whole lives were some ‘crazy supernatural shit’ Derek kindly didn’t correct him. The older wolf just agreed that there was a chance it wasn’t happening, as he’d never seen it firsthand himself. It was clear that Derek didn’t believe his own words. Neither did Stiles.

But then Scott came back in, looking like someone had sold all of his highly coveted Magic cards and Stiles focused his attention on attempting to cheer his friend up. It seemed like Stiles was only making things worse, though, as every time Scott saw him he winced and seemed to shrink down into himself, misery echoed in every feature. Eventually he gave in and excused himself to the restroom to make sure he'd gotten all the blood off his face, but it didn't seem to help and Scott continued to stare morosely into his sandwich.

And then, just because everything was going _so_ smoothly, John called to say he couldn’t come with them to the woods. His father usually spent his moons with Stiles, if he could, and the nights that he couldn’t he always arranged to be patrolling alone and Stiles usually met him up at the speed trap by Old 40c.

“What do you mean, you’re not coming?” Stiles hissed, turning his back to the two other wolves in the illusion of privacy. “Dad, its Scott’s first full moon. You need to be here, what if he wigs out?”

“He’s not going to wig out, Stiles. He’s been handling his new lacrosse responsibilities pretty well since he switched meds.” He and his dad had grown pretty adept at talking in code, so Stiles brain easily translated ‘lacrosse’ into ‘werewolf’ and 'meds' into whatever magic juju the bite contained. “Probably because he’s so used to his asthma attacks that he can sense when he’s going to ‘wig out,’ as you say.” Out of the corner of his eye Stiles could see Scott wince. His father’s faith probably hurt more than a little at the moment. “Besides you’ve got Derek and you’re no slouch yourself.”

“Of course I’m not,” the younger wolf scoffed, more than a little pleased, but he could recognize reverse psychology when he heard it. “Dad, is there seriously no way you can come? What if the Alpha comes or something?”

There was a heavy sigh. “That’s the reason why I can’t come. There’s been an ‘animal attack’ every night since Tuesday, son, and everyone’s pulling double” – _triples,_ a voice muttered angrily in the background – “shifts. Wouldn't due for me to take an evening off. I’ve got to be out here looking for whatever’s doing this. Hm?” John mused, even though Stiles hadn’t said anything, “yes, the attacks have mostly been in the North West. But that doesn’t matter as I don’t want you or your friends going into the reserve, even if it is Scott’s birthday.”

Translation: Stay in the South Eastern parts of the reserve.

“Yeah, I guess.” Stiles said with a sigh. “Wells still giving you trouble over me and Derek?”

“You know it, son. Part of the reason I can’t leave tonight,” the Delta _knew it,_ Wells was such a fucktard! “Indulge a paranoid old man and keep me updated tonight, alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good boy. Now, go and try to have fun. Go for a run, play around, maybe work on your wresting moves. Scott will be fine. Stay away from the areas we talked about, okay?”

“Yeah. Love you, Dad.”

“Love you, too, son. See you later. Call me if you need anything.”

Stiles hung up, frowning as he turned to his friends. “Guess we’re on our own.”

He glanced at the clock. It was only five thirty; they still had another two hours before they needed to head to reserves. With a sigh he flipped on Nickelodeon, ignoring the look of disbelief Derek sent his way before settling back down in front of his half eaten sandwich.

“Don’t judge me, Sponge Bob is fanfuckingtastic. Like an acid trip with none of the jail time or attempts to fly. Come on, Scott, be depressed while you eat. Tuna tastes like shit warm.”

They headed to the reserve around eight thirty and Scott was already showing signs of being twitchy and odd. Stiles tried to lighten the mood, but his friend was silent the entire ride to the reserve, form hunched with misery, unwilling to relax no matter what the Delta tried. In the end Stiles gave up, slamming both his feet up on the dashboard with a pout. A glare from Derek had them removed just as quickly.

They ended up going to an unpopular stretch of the reserve, where the terrain was too rocky and too uneven for humans to hike or bike on and wouldn't be popular for anyone looking to go parking or to find a nice, quiet place in the woods to fuck. It was located in the far South Eastern part of the woods, about an hour’s drive away from the Stilinski' house and an hour and half away from the place they’d run into the Alpha.

Still all three wolves were clearly paranoid as they set up camp. Stiles had brought snacks and drinks (though he was the only one who partook in any) as well as a blanket for them to stretch out on while they waited for the moon to rise. They settled in uncomfortably, chatting amiably as they listened to the sounds in the woods around them. As the moon finally peaked over the tree branches above them, Stiles began to feel the familiar tug around his naval; a strange, demanding yank of need and want and franticness that the born wolf managed to suppress with years of experience.

Scott nervous shuffling increased a hundred fold, his face the picture of terrified.

“You remember your anchor, right?” Derek demanded, eyes narrowed as he stared at the twitching teen.

“Yeah.” Scott said quietly. He glanced at Stiles, and then looked down at his clenched fists, “I don’t think I could live with myself if I hurt anyone again.”

“Keep that in mind,” the older Beta instructed, “if you feel like you’re going to lose it, remember that if you don’t learn to get this under control you're going to hurt someone. Just like you did Stiles. ”

“We both know he didn’t mean to do it.” Stiles said sharply, angry that the incident was still being brought up because, truthfully, he'd rather just pretend it never happened.

“Yeah, but that’s what makes it worse.” Scott said suddenly, brown eyes wide and guilty. “I didn’t think I could ever hurt you, Stiles. You’re like my brother. And if I could hit you then, I could hit anyone.”

“…Scott.” He managed, voice soft with affection. Goddamn, he loved Scott, loved him so freaken much.

Derek glanced up at the rising moon. “It’ll be soon.”

They stood in a wide circle, Stiles and Scott shifting restlessly while Derek watched them - well, mainly he watched Scott - his lips turned in a sharp frown. Finally the moon reached its zenith and the change came. It swept through Stiles in a wave of adrenalin and sensation that left him breathless. He could feel his teeth lengthen; canine's tugging at his lips. Felt the subtle itch of his skin as hair sprouted and grew into a healthy pair of chops and added a good few inches to his crew cut. When Stiles opened his eyes the night had grown even brighter, his improved night vision coloring it a strange parody of early morning.

Stiles stretched, allowing both hands to reach for the sky as he felt his muscles tremble deliciously, before bringing a hand down to scratch at his still itchy scalp. Derek had shifted as well, looking more relaxed and comfortable than he ever appeared to be as a human. He shot the older Beta a fangy grin and received an easy, casual nod in response. Everything felt more vivid, more real, _more alive_ and Stiles closed his eyes, letting the feelings rack through him.

Everything inside him was itching to cut loose and run. To take his new packmates out to hunt and _play._ There was so much Stiles wanted to show Scott, so much he wanted to teach him! But first...a glance found Scott hunched over with his hands slammed over his ears and his eyes squeezed shut, as if he could somehow hide from senses that were now a part of himself.

“W-What! What’s happening? Everything is so – so bright and loud and-!"

Stiles blinked in surprise, glancing over at Derek in alarm. He’d been prepared for a repeat of the living room incident or for Scott to go ape-shit. Hell, even for him to make a break for Jackson's party. But this...the Delta bounced on his heels nervously, completely at a loss of what to do _. Don't panic,_ he ordered to himself,  _you're not panicking._ And Stiles was totally not panicking, as he was too busy _freaking out._ Because the last time he’d seen Scott wear that expression was on his ninth birthday - the first one after his father had left – and the piece of shit that was Andrew McCall had failed to call him.

"What's happening?" He demanded, "I thought he was supposed to get angry?"

Derek shrugged. “I thought he would too, but everyone behaves differently. Besides, your dad said he wouldn't. And there isn’t anything to influence him out here,” the _‘no Allison’_ went without saying, “just us. We just need to stay calm.” The Beta reached out, grasping the overwhelmed wolf by his hands and gently pulled his them down.

“No, it’s too loud.” Scott whined and Stiles winced in sympathy at the pure agony in his friend’s voice. “Is it supposed to be like this?”

“Calm down and breathe, Puppy.” Derek’s voice was lowered but level. “Open your eyes. Scott, open your eyes.” Glowing amber eyes blinked in the darkness. “Remember what John said the other day? You’ve got to force yourself to the other side. Go through the sensations until you can find your calm.”

“I-I can’t!”

“Yes, you can.” Derek stated firmly. “You’re already doing much better than I thought you would. Most Mades loose themselves to their anger their first moon. You’re just scared.”

“How is that better?” The Beta demanded, a touch hysterical. That tone was far too familiar. It was the same tone that Scott used to get right before an asthma attack and Stiles stepped forward, pressing a comforting hand on his shoulder, trying to help calm him.

“Just breathe, Scott.” Stiles added, throwing an arm around his shoulder. “In. And out. Just listen to me, yeah? It’s so nice out tonight. Do you know what we’re gonna do tonight? Once you calm down, we’re gonna play, just like Dad said to, and, man, you have no idea what that like! It's like being Thor _and_ Spiderman! You see- ”

It took almost a half hour but eventually Scott was comfortable enough with his new body to move around freely, eyes bright in wonder as he observed the world around him. Derek and Stiles followed at a pace behind, exchanging amused looks every time the new Beta discovered a new part of his abilities. Twenty minutes after that found Scott running through the woods at a speed that would make Coach shit himself, laughing and childlike, as he attempted to catch a streaking Stiles who'd stolen his cellphone in a blatant attempt to entice him into a game of chase.

The Delta had never played with someone other than his father before and, _man_ , was it awesome. It was a bastardized version of tag, with someone running free until someone else brought them down into a rolling, massive puppy pile. Then someone would take off once more and it begin all over again.

Stiles couldn’t help the swell of affection nor the equally fond smile that took his lips at the sight of the two Betas playing together. Derek had pinned the younger wolf, mouthing playfully at Scott’s shoulder and arm, teeth tugging lightly at the fabric of his t-shirt. Scott’s laughter – still kind of creaky because his voice was still going through the change – was gloriously full and happy as he pawed frantically at the Beta’s face. It was so different from his earlier panic and melancholy that Stiles felt the anxiousness that had settled like a heavy weight in his stomach since the afternoon finally subside.

Scott smacked the side of Derek’s face (way too hard, honestly, but he was still learning) and the older wolf grunted as he reeled backwards, face twisted in a wide grin, before darting after the escaping Scott. Stiles, hidden by ground cover, crouched low on all fours, watching as the two Betas drew closer. He bounced on the balls of his feet, muscles tense, his shoulders dipping up and down, claws digging shallow trenches as he kneeded the loose top soil. Stiles waited until the two were almost upon him before launching himself at a startled Derek.

The larger Beta let out a grunt of surprise as Stiles impacted his waist, the movement sending them both tumbling to the ground. They rolled together, claws swiping harmlessly at each other’s skin. He let out a laugh of victory as he pinned the older wolf, the tips of his fingernails piercing Derek’s shirt and prickling at his skin.

“Big, bad Beta my ass -  _woah!”_ Stiles was suddenly flat on his back, both hands pinned above his head. For a moment the teenager just laid there, shocked, before glancing once up at his restrained wrists and shooting the grinning Beta a glare. "You just really suck, you know that?” Derek’s grin grew even larger, a single lengthened canine sticking out on his lip impishly. “Shut up, Scott.”

“Dude!” The younger Beta snorted around wheezing laughs, “your freaken face!”

“Gonna _claw_ your _face_ off, douchebag!”

“Gotta get be able to move for that,” the other teenager taunted with a cackle.

Stiles let out a growl, fully intending on removing that smirk from his friend's face - _forcibly_ \- and bucked his hips violently in an attempt to dislodge the large wolf. The action didn’t work (of course it didn’t, Derek was built like a brick house) but did managed to send Scott into even more laughter. Above him Derek went still, his grip on Stiles' tightening, but the younger wolf ignored the demand for stillness, doubling his attempts to escape.

Suddenly, his arms were pulled even further back, his wrists stretched far above his head and Stiles let out an annoyed sound as he forced to hold himself still, spine slightly arched, to keep from feeling any pain. Derek was staring down at him intensely, a definite edge of warning in his expression, and Stiles let out a puff of breath in confusion, bewildered as to why he was being rebuked so thoroughly for such harmless playing.

Until he took stock of his body.

Stiles let out a choked sound, feeling a brilliant blush crawl across his face as he realized that in his squirming he’d inadvertently been grinding their hips together. He let out a stuttered attempt at an apology, looking anywhere but Derek, trying to think of anything but how intimately they were pressed up against each other. But it was impossible and lust, shameless and wanting, wafted off him in waves. _Oh my god,_ Stiles whined, _no way he’s gonna miss that. Could this get any more humiliating?_

Except, the Delta realized with a jolt, it wasn’t only his arousal he was scenting.

Stiles’ eyes shot up to Derek's, wide and stunned, as he gaped up at the larger wolf. _Derek’s…turned on?_ The idea floored him and Stiles felt himself grow hard, the air around them growing even headier with his scent. Above him Derek's nostrils flared and the teen couldn't suppress his shiver at the sight of the older wolf scenting him. The grip on his wrists tightened slightly, causing the Delta to bow into the large body above him even more, before gentling and it was all that Stiles had to keep from whimpering as a thumb brushed over his pulse point.

Besides them Scott was shifting awkwardly, oblivious to what the scents meant but more than aware that this had crossed from play into something else. Scott wasn’t stupid by any means and Stiles knew that even if he couldn't understand scent markers yet, their body language was telling enough. He should be embarrassed by their observer but at the moment he was too wrapped up in the way Derek was looking at him, in the way it felt to have the older Beta’s weight settled on him so, to give two shits.

He should…he should say something or…or _something_ and Stiles licked at his lips as he scrambled for a way to defuse the sudden tenseness. Anything he was going to say, however, was lost when glowing blue eyes darted down to track the movement of his tongue.

Then suddenly Derek was gone, throwing himself bodily to the right and toppling Scott to the ground. The _swish-shoo_ of a cross bolt arrow filled the clearing as it impacted a tree just behind where Scott had been standing, its spine embedded half way into the tree trunk. Stiles was instantly on his feet, darting into the woods with both Betas behind him. Gunshots lit the air behind him, another tree taking the brunt of it and he cursed as bark exploded inches from him.

_Shit that was close, who –_

There was a pained yelp from behind him and Stiles spun around to find Scott clutching at his side, blood gushing from between his fingers. Stiles' feet had already switched direction before he knew what he was doing, fully prepared to attack the hunters behind them. Derek caught him by the back of the shirt, forcing him backwards at the same time he shoved a stunned Scott at him.

 _“Run!”_ The Beta snarled, kicking a large stone up and launching it at the figures behind him. The Delta obeyed instantly, locking onto Scott’s arm with a death grip and dragging the Beta behind him. The three had made it clear to the other side of the reserve before Scott could go no more and the young Beta fell to his knees, both hands flying to his injured side.

“Don’t!” Stiles warned, catching his friend’s hands moments before they went to rip the arrow out. “Don’t just pull it out!”

“No,” Derek said darkly as he crouched next to them, “he’s right. It’s got to come out.”

“But – but it’s already healed around it!” Stiles stammered, aghast.

The older wolf only nodded, mouth a thin, grim line. “Hold him.”

For a moment Stiles could only stare at him in horror before making himself finally move. He slid behind Scott, wrapping both arms around his friend and locking Scott against his chest. He pressed his cheek against the other teenager’s comfortingly.

“Wait-” 

“It’s gonna be okay, Scott.” He managed to choke out, eyes wide as saucers and stomach swirling violently as Derek wrapped a hand around the shaft, the other rising up to press comfortingly against Scott’s neck.

“Wait, wait, _wait!”_

Stiles winced, both eyes squeezing shut as Scott’s howl of pain echoed around them. The Beta collapsed against him, entire body limp with shock, tiny little shudders of pain causing him to shake in Stiles' arms. Scott let out pathetical little whimpers and Stiles felt like his heart was wrenching apart with each one. He held Scott tighter, nuzzling helplessly into a scratchy jaw and murmuring comforting platitudes in his friend's ear as they waited for Scott’s body to heal itself.

Finally, _finally,_ after what felt like an eternity, the tremors stopped. With one last nuzzle, Stiles gently let the other wolf go. Derek’s hand shifted around Scott’s neck until it was wrapped more tightly around the limp Beta’s nape and Scott’s lanky frame slumped in on itself, leaning back into the scruffing until the older Beta was practically holding him up, eyes glazed with the echo of pain.

“Who the hell was that?” Scott rasped, glancing over his shoulder and into the dark woods nervously.

“Hunters.” Derek growled out, blue eyes flashing even brighter. “Humans who kill us, without hesitation.”

Stiles bit his lip nervously. In the years he’d been living here, he’d never encountered or heard of his father finding hunters in Beacon Hill. “Do you think they’re after the Alpha?”

“Maybe,” Derek answered with a severe frown, “maybe not. There used to be a family of them that lived here. To keep my pack in line,” the sneer that accompanied that statement was _epic_ , “but I thought the Argents had moved away.”

In front of them Scott jerked, somehow growing even paler underneath his tan. Stiles was instantly concerned, scooting forward and peeling up the bloody shirt. Smooth skin greeted him, only slightly pink and inflamed. “What? What is it?”

“Allison.”

“Oh _Jesus,_ Scott.” Stiles snapped, “this is so not the time-”

“No! Stiles! Her last name is Argent.”

Well.

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dundundun! T,T
> 
> Well, hopefully I've managed to scare some sense into Scott. Think it worked?
> 
> ....so I managed to load up the unedited version of this. ::face smack:: Again. You think I'd have learned after last time. Sorry, guys. Fixed now.


	7. Big Game Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t outdoorsy,” she teased with a laugh, “deer season's closed, we mainly go for waterfowl. Or squirrels and rabbits. My dad and I are pretty into archery,” Scott’s hand flew to his healed side, the pain from the wound still hauntingly present in his memory, “and it’s been a while for me, so we wanted to brush up before I move up to big game.”
> 
> Big game.
> 
> Like him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like!

**January 21 st, 2011 – Sunday**

Scott McCall knew that he never had much luck. Born with an almost preternatural clumsiness and hair trigger asthma, the brunet had always stood out. Doubly so after his father had left and Scott had become prone to fits of anger and moroseness that only singled him out even further. He had been surprisingly violent for a nine year old, especially when compared to the general docile personality that he’d evolved as he’d aged and his father’s leaving had scabbed.

The Stilinskis had a hell of a lot to do with that; with why Scott was viewed as dorky outcast rather than a violent freak. John had been the one to give Scott the sex talk and all variations that predated or followed it. He had taught him how to play lacrosse, how to drive stick. The first person that had talked with him about hitting things instead of people. The first adult to really try and find out why he was hitting things at all. He'd been more of a father then his own had ever been. And Stiles – Stiles had given him companionship. He had never turned away from him no matter how angry or vile Scott had gotten when they were younger. They had found each other in a haze of misery and bitterness that only came with the loss of a parent and became inseparable overnight. They had put each other through hell; Scott with his black spells of undeserved cruelty and violence and Stiles’ fierce wit and sharp tongue cutting as deep (if not deeper, honestly) then anything Scott could ever dish out.

They hurt each other like no else could, broke each other in ways that no one ever could come close to emulating. But they’d never turned their backs on each other, never hurt each other in a way that couldn’t be fixed eventually or gone so far that the path back to their friendship couldn't be found again. Because when it had seemed like no one in Beacon Hills could possibly understand what he was going through, Stiles had always understood.

He’d even saved Scott’s life once.

When he’d turned twelve Scott had found out he had a three year old half-brother. His father hadn’t even waited a full year before replacing him and when he had, Andrew McCall had given his new son Scott’s middle name. Alexander. Pissed and hurt and angry the preteen had run blindly from his house – without his inhaler. Miraculously, (though, perhaps not as much now that Scott knew how he’d been tracked) Stiles had found him just in time to stop a major attack that could have killed him.

And at this point, Scott had known Stiles for almost as many years as he’d been alive and he couldn’t begin to imagine a life without him. Without his friendship Scott firmly believed he would never have calmed down, that he’d be somewhere else – juvie or something equally bad – if he hadn't had anyone to talk him from the ledge every time he let his emotions sweep him away.

Which was why it was destroying him that the first person he'd hit in anger in over four years had been Stiles.

_Stiles!_

Scott let out a sigh, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. The Delta had tried to make him feel better, explaining that being a wolf meant feeling your emotions stronger than most humans. This was apparently particularly so the closer one got to a full moon and since Scott had been a werewolf all of three days before he’d hit his first moon it was all a matter of piss poor timing.

The Beta was not as generous as his friend.

Derek Hale had been even less so.

Was the concept of a date so important to him that Scott was willing to be that angry little boy again? The one that spoke with fists and kicks and always sat alone? It was just…he liked Allison _so_ much. She was perfect, beautiful and funny and kind. The bite had made things seem so perfect for the Beta. For the first time Coach actually knew his name and Lydia Martin and her crew had come to sit with him on their own free will. People looked at him with something other than annoyance or disgust for the first time in years. It felt like how it had before Scott’s dad had left, when his mom hosted the best sleepovers and Scott had always been picked first and Jackson Whittemore used to invite him over to his house to play new Xbox games before anyone else. That was what Allison was to him.

But none of that was an excuse for the fact that he’d hit Stiles.

Perhaps it was horrible to admit that this whole thing would have bothered him a lot less if he’d hit someone else or (preferably) no one at all.

But he’d hit _Stiles._

_He’d hit Stiles._

Over a girl who was probably trying to kill him.

And, fuck, wasn’t that another harsh pill to swallow. Early Saturday afternoon Scott had finally scraped up the courage to call Allison. She’d been polite enough, if not a little bit distant at first, but she seemed to believe his lie about being ill and the more Scott laid it on, the more the human girl seemed to warm up. And even though he knew that Stiles and Derek were going to kill him, Scott had even gone so far as to suggest another date for today. But Allison had other plans.

She was going hunting with her father.

_“What?”_

_“For the rest of the weekend.” Allison explained cheerfully, “My whole family’s into hunting and my dad grew up around here, so he knows all the good hunting spots.”_

_In his chest the wolf’s heart stumbled, fluttering strangely before erupting into a full blown gallop. The world around him had shifted into excruciatingly clarity and Scott knew he’d wolfed out._

_“Like…like for deer and stuff?”_

_“Man, you weren’t kidding when you said you weren’t outdoorsy,” she teased with a laugh, “deer season's closed, we mainly go for waterfowl. Or squirrels and rabbits. My dad and I are pretty into archery,” Scott’s hand flew to his healed side, the pain from the wound still hauntingly present in his memory, “and it’s been a while for me, so we wanted to brush up before I move up to big game.”_

_Big game._

_Like him._

_“I’ll call you later,” Scott had managed to croak out. Adrenalin was pumping through his veins, his chest heaving as he gripped his desk hard enough that his claws sank into the soft wood._

_The silence on the other line told him more about Allison’s mood then her bemused, slightly annoyed goodbye did. Scott hung up, wide eyed and covered in a cold sweat, hand still glued to his healed side. His heart was racing faster than he’d ever felt it but he couldn’t seem to catch a breath. The Beta stood abruptly and stumbled instantly, sending his computer chair onto its side. The room was spinning dangerously as he had struggled over to his dresser, gasping loudly as he scrambled for his inhaler. It was only once it was in his hand that Scott remembered he didn’t need it anymore._

It hadn’t been his asthma acting up, but rather a panic attack. Scott had never experience them himself but Stiles had had them a lot when he was younger and that fact was the only reason why he’d had any idea how to stop his own. Scott had wedged himself in the corner between his bed and the wall and forced himself to hold his breath for as long as possible before counting down from one hundred. It had taken almost fifteen minutes but the teenager had managed to calm himself down.

It had all reminded him way too much of his asthma attacks. The feeling of being out of control, the desperation and fear and Scott had thought he was done with it all. His ashma was gone and Scott never wanted to have feel anything like that again. And as much as the Beta would like to think that Allison wouldn’t hurt him, Mr. Argent had already shot him with a _freaking crossbow._ And Derek had been very adamant about the danger all of the Argent’s posed to them, regardless of age or gender, and it was hard to argue against that when Allison was going to practice archery with her father.

Her father who had shot Scott without even knowing who he was, who hadn't known or cared if he was a good person or not. Who hadn’t even cared that he was killing a sixteen year old boy because, as the older Beta had put it, _“you’re not a boy to him, Scott, you’re a monster and he will use everything in his power to put you down like the dog he thinks you are. Your mom. Stiles. Even his own daughter. The Argents can’t be trusted.”_

So as much as he liked Allison, Scott was going to keep his distance. At least until he knew more. That bolt to the side had hurt, more than anything the teen could have imagined anything could hurt, and he wasn’t willing to put his mom or the Stilinskis or Derek in danger just because he wanted to go on a date.

But that didn’t mean that it didn’t still _suck._

Especially when Allison had sent him two different friendly text messages. He had no idea what he’d done to earn her continued interest but it would figure that Scott would stumble upon a miracle when he couldn’t do anything about it _goddamn’t._

Frustrated, the Beta bounced out of his bed, shucking on a pair of loose gym shorts and a beat up old lacrosse hoodie. He strapped on his IPod, careful to keep the volume on its lowest setting – just a smidge above actually being mute – before pressing the buds into his ear. Scott had learned the hard way that his audio limits had changed drastically and this was the only way he could actually listen to headphones and not go deaf. He shouted a goodbye to his mom before shoving his feet into a pair of muddy sneakers and taking off.

Scott had always loved running, even before he became a wolf, as his asthma had never been so extreme as to keep him from sports. But now – it was like there was a whole another side to running he’d never known about. The vice that had always just been there around his lungs was gone and he could just _run._

Scott was careful to stick to neighborhoods (the Alpha hadn’t ever attacked during the day but Stiles had beaten enough cautiousness into him that Scott strayed far from his normal cross country running path) and keep his pacing within normal human ranges. The track list Stiles had given him helped with that, as long as he kept his pace with the beat he should be fine, and the Delta’s coaching during practice had also helped him relearn his boundries. Still, Scott had to actually dedicate a large portion of his thought process to keeping his speed limited.

But that suited the teenager just fine because wanted to get lost in the feel of his feet hitting the pavement and the beat of Avicii in his ears.

He didn’t want to think about Allison or the Argents. Didn’t want to think about how it felt to have a 20" long crossbow bolt ripped from his side. Didn’t want to think about how he wasn’t human anymore. Didn’t want to think about the fact that he was the same beast that had nearly gutted him less than five days ago. Didn’t want to think about how Stiles' blood had felt on his fingers.

Scott was so wrapped up in _not thinking_ that it took him a surprisingly large amount of time to realize he wasn’t running alone. At some point Jackson had joined him, the human’s long legs and muscled frame easily keeping pace with the Beta. Scott glanced at him wearily, but the other teenager didn’t acknowledge him and so with a mental shrug the shorter brunet let his presence pass without question.

They ran together in tandem, strides falling into an easy synchronization, neither one of them really acknowledging the other's presence. They ran in a comfortable silence, tucking one mile then two and then three behind them. Scott hadn’t realized that he’d been letting the other teen chose their path until they turned onto Roselawn Street and an over-zealously decorated lawn – complete with cement ducks wearing raincoats, mystical reflective globes, and a family of plastic deer cresting majestically out of well-trimmed hedges - sparked the realization that they’d gone far closer to the Argent’s place then the Beta had ever meant to.

In the show of luck that was typical to Scott’s entire life, an SUV was heading their way with Chris Argent in the driver seat. There was no Allison. Scott didn’t know if that was a good thing or not.

Scott came to a stop so fast that he actually tripped over nothing and nearly took a knee. He should have taken a knee, but somehow Jackson’s hand had shot out and caught him by the elbow, stopping him mid-stumble. The taller brunet righted him, patrician features a picture of a man put-upon, before cocking a single eyebrow up in question.

“Something wrong, McCall?”

“Um,” Scott swallowed hard, eyes darting from him to the approaching SUV. Every instinct he had was telling him to flee but he couldn’t seem to make his feet move. The Beta’s felt his face go slack in horror as the four door began slowing to a stop, a low sound of distress escaping him that had Jackson stiffening by his side, head snapping over to stare at him. Scott’s hand flew to his side, pressing against the whole flesh there as if to assure himself their wasn't any holes. Jackson frowned, stepping slightly closer.

“McCall, wh-”

“You boys alright?” Mr. Argent had rolled down the window, leaning over until his seat belt was straining, hand resting on the passenger seat as he watched them with a slight frown on his face.

“Just going for a run.” Jackson answered, sounding more than slightly annoyed at the interruption.

Mr. Argent frowned deepened at the tone, leaning forward even further, grey eyes narrowing. The look he gave the older teen was cold but the glare softened as it flickered over to Scott’s bent form. “Got a stitch, son? Make sure you stretch it out.” He dug into the side console and pulled out a bottle of water, holding it out the window. “Here, this will help.”

There was no force on earth that was going to get him any closer to that car.

If anything Scott shifted back, making Jackson even more of a physical barrier between himself and the SUV, as if the water bottle was some mighty weapon just waiting to be used against him. Jackson was frowning heavily, eyes flickering from Scott still form to the man speaking to them. When it became clear that Scott wasn’t going to say or do anything, the taller teen denied the bottle wordlessly, unclipping his own from his belt and shaking it slightly. 

“Alright.” The hunter said with a shrug, letting the water bottle fall harmlessly on the passenger seat, “but you boys start heading home, there’s a curfew in effect that starts in about a half-hour. Not very safe to be out at night with those animal attacks.”

“Yes sir.” Jackson said with a nod towards the direction they’d come from, “we’ll head back now.”

“See that you do.”

And then he was gone.

Just gone.

Had all he really wanted was to make sure they went home before curfew? This…this was the same guy that had _shot him?_

They began the walk back, just as silent as before though the easy atmosphere was long gone. Scott’s mind was racing. Did the Argents really not know who he was? Derek had said that the woods had been dark enough that there was a strong chance that they hadn’t seen their faces but the younger Beta hadn’t really believed that. Yet what had just happened seemed to back that up...but what if this was some kind of set up for a trap? Some way to lure him into a sense of fake security?

Holy fucking god, how was this his life? How was he sitting here wondering if the girl he was crushing on and her father were legitimately trying to kill him? How the hell had Scott gotten here?

“So,” Jackson’s voice arrested his freak out – at least temporarily – and he glanced over to find to find the older teen taking a long sip from his water bottle, “you wanna tell me what the hell that was all about?”

“Uh.” Scott swallowed, glancing down at the pavement. “Nothing.”

The human snorted. “Right. That’s why you almost pissed yourself. What'd you do, get caught with your hand up Allison’s shirt?”

“What? No!” Scott snapped, throwing him a sharp glare. “Jesus, you’re such an ass! I don’t know where you’re getting your information, but Allison and I aren’t dating. And even if we were, I'm not the kind of jerk to try and cop a feel on the first date.”

“What, she find out about your promising modeling career?”

“You swore you’d never tell anyone about that!” Scott snapped, feeling his face turn bright red.

When he was eight, right before his dad had left, Scott had somehow gotten it in his head that he’d wanted to be model. He’s not quite sure why he thought he’d had to put on makeup, but the Beta had used his mom’s stuff, coating his face until he looked fresh out of the nineties and proceeded to put on a fashion show.

For Jackson.

Who, to be fair, was far less of an ass then he was now and had actually kind of been Scott’s best friend back then.

Jackson smirked, looking strangely animalistic with the water bottle hanging from his mouth, his teeth locked around the pull sprot. “What, don’t want people to know you’re a tranny?”

“Hey!”

“What? We live in Cali, much broader spectrums. Besides, I thought you looked cute in your mom’s church hat.”

“Cute, my ass.” The Beta muttered angrily, “my dad couldn’t look at me right for like three weeks after that.”

Scott didn’t think he’d ever forget the look of shock/horror/utter confusion on his father’s face when he’d gone up to check on them that Saturday night.

“Your dad was an asshole. You deserved better.”

It was said with casual conviction, with the same self-confidence that Jackson always spoke with, yet for the first time in years it was free of any kind of barbs towards his person and for a long moment Scott was actually robbed of words.

It wasn’t until they turned onto his street that the Beta spoke again. “Are you walking me home?"

"No."

"You don’t have to walk me home.”

“I’m not.”

“You live like five streets that way, Jackson, and it’s getting dark.”

“It’s fine.”

“But the curfew-”

“Shut up, McCall.”

“…okay.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Actually knew someone who had that happen to him, his father just kind of replaced him with a new baby and gave him his middle name. Divorce makes people do weird, weird shit. 
> 
> Hope I managed to give enough depth to Scott's person to explain why he's been struggling the last few chapters and to help give him a path to move onto. Plus I wanted to introduce the childhood friendship between Jackson and Scott and begin the JackScott aspect of this story. And I needed a decent set up to explain why Scott was going to be avoiding the Argents yet still pining over Allison.
> 
> Too much? Too subtle? Just right?


	8. Saturday Night Lights, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sure.” The Beta said, patting him on the back placating as he followed him into the front entrance. “Just saying, wish I had some ‘nothing’ going on in my life.”
> 
> “Scott, oh my god.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry this took me so long.
> 
> Unbetaed for now.

**January 22 nd, 2011 – Monday**

“-and then he walked to my drive way. It was crazy.”

“Sounds like it.” Stiles mused from his jeep’s passenger side. Having been the one to drive it almost exclusively, it was kind of a novel experience. “Who knew Jackson had it in him to be a decent person.”

“Right?” Scott agreed empathetically from the back seat, “I mean he hasn’t said a nice thing to me since I was like eight!”

“To be fair I think calling you a ‘tranny’ is that nice.” Derek added as he skillfully maneuvered through the early morning traffic.

Stiles hummed slightly in agreement, hands clasped tightly around the warmth of his travel coffee mug.

“Yeah but,” the younger Beta fumbled for a moment, “it’s just that he’s never brought anything up from back then-” then being the time when he and Scott had been best friends “- and…and I don’t know. He’ll probably be the same asshole at school.”

“Probably,” the Delta agreed, but a part of him had his doubts. His friend hadn’t yet figured out all his new talents but Stiles had a lifetime with them. Maybe Jackson was finally nutting up and making a move? “But still, that’s sort of ground breaking. Who knows, maybe our boy Jack is maturing.”

Scott bit his bottom lip in thought, “you think?”

Derek rolled his eyes, face morphing into what Stiles had named his ‘my god, _teenagers_ ’ look. “While I enjoy sitting around gossiping as much as the next girl,” that earned the older wolf dual ‘heys!’ “don’t forget the bigger issue here. The Argents.”

Stiles nodded in agreement. He had been all out of sorts with worry when he’d learned of his friend’s close call. “Scott, maybe you should avoid the streets for a bit.”

He let out an irritated huff. “First the woods and now I can’t run in my own neighborhood? Where am I supposed to do it then?”

“We can’t risk you running into them again. The only thing keeping us safe right now is our mystique.” Stiles chided, ignoring the way Derek was mouthing the word ‘mystique’ next to him with obvious amusement. “The less they are around us the less chance we have of them figuring out who we are. Just use your mom’s treadmill or something if you just have to run.”

“But I hate running like that!”

“Nobody likes a whiner, buddy.” He said with a shrug, taking a sip of his coffee before offering it to Derek. The older wolf eyed it for a moment before reaching out and taking it. Their fingers brushed against each other on the hand off – ever so slight – but Stiles found the nearly ever present pool of arousal in his gut build at it.

Things had been…tense…between them ever since that night in the woods where Stiles had realized that maybe his lusting hadn’t been all that one sided. But just because Derek may be interested in him physically didn’t mean that Stiles was ready to act on it. Besides the fact that he knew next to nothing about the older Beta, he wasn’t quite ready to give up on his feelings for Danny just yet.

It just all seemed way too soon, too quick, and kinda unclassy. Hell, maybe even a little sluttish if he was so willing to drop everything and move onto a new guy so quickly.

Beacon Hills High loomed above them as Derek pulled into the parking lot. After the scare of the last moon, Scott’s own adventures, and the added fact that there was a fairly high chance that Allison could be dropped off by one or both of her parents, Derek had insisted on driving them. And since he would be hovering like a creeper around the school all day to keep an eye on them it had made sense to just take the jeep so that Derek could use the parking permit to park on the street nearby.

The three of them clamored out, standing together by the hood as Derek reinforced that they should ditch if they even suspected something was wrong, for them both to keep a check of Scott’s control, and that he’d be within audible shouting distance at all times, or just to send him a text if they felt that was too much of a risk.

The two teenagers took his hovering in stride, exchanging looks of amusement as the list grew in length and detail. Finally he ended it with a _“Have a good day at school. Learn something,”_ which had earned him twin horrified glances.

“Dude.” Scott said with a shudder, “just no. Creepily parental.”

The Delta couldn’t help but second that. “Way too creepily parental.”

The older wolf just chuckled at their reactions, reaching behind him and through the open car window to dig out Stiles’ backpack. The teen reached out to take it, head already turned to watch as Scott jogged over to say hello to a rapidly waving Greenberg. He was set to go over and join his friend and hear whatever inane story their teammate had (and Greenberg _always_ had inane stories to dish out and Scott and Stiles _always_ listened because…well…Caleb Greenberg was somehow less popular then even they were and they felt for the poor dude) but was stopped short by Derek’s immobile grip on his backpack.

When he glanced back in question he found the older wolf was staring at him, expression stormy and eyes concerned.

“I mean it, Stiles.” His voice was pitched low, not quite out of human range but low enough to ensure that they wouldn’t be over heard, “keep your puppy under control. The Argents are ruthless and the Alpha knows your scents. No risks.”

Stiles shivered at the intensity behind the Beta’s words, swallowing hard before nodding.

“You be careful, too.” He murmured just as softly. His words seem to catch Derek off guard, if the slight, confused tilt of his head was any indication. “The Alpha has your scent, too, right? And the Argents already know who you are,” the idea of Derek being hunted down or worse made his stomach clench angrily. “Just remember this is a two way street, yeah? You can call us if you need help too. That’s how packs work, right?”

It wasn’t until the word had left his mouth that Stiles realized what he’d just said. It was a deeply intimate thing, belonging to a pack, and he dropped his gaze to his feet immediately, face flushing red under the weight of his embarrassment. God he was so _stupid!_ Derek wasn’t a member of his pack. Shit, how could he be? They’d known each other for less than a week. Besides, what appeal could an old Beta, a new Made, and a Delta even hold? No Alpha, no real land. Nothing but –

A broad hand settled on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. It was too close to the junction of his shoulder bone and neck to be considered friendly but not quite far up to be considered something else.

“Stiles…” A calloused thumb rested just over his pulse point, pressing in just enough to feel pleasant and Stiles dared to look up once more. Derek was watching him, green eyes intense and warm. “Thank you.”

“N-No problem.” He managed to push out, feeling the back of his neck and cheeks heat up under such kind eyes.

Derek wasn’t disgusted. God, he even looked happy. Maybe...maybe Derek did want to be a part of their pack. Maybe when this was all over he’d stay and - Stiles clamped down on that thought and squashed it. It probably meant nothing, or at least it didn’t mean what his mind wanted it to. After all, no one wanted to be an Omega. It probably had nothing to do with Stiles.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t fighting a tremendously goofy smile or that his heart felt like it was going to beat right out his chest with giddiness. The Delta cleared his throat, slinging his backpack onto shoulder and tried to reclaim his composure.

“See you after school, yeah?”

The hand gave one last, gentle squeeze before falling. “Yeah.”

Stiles turned from him, ignoring the fact that he swore he could _feel_ the weight of Derek’s eyes on his back and went to join Scott on the steps. The new wolf was looking at him oddly. His friend waited until the jeep roared off before letting out a soft, ‘huh.’

“So. You and Derek?”

“What? No!” Stiles sputtered. “Not even. Nothing going on there.”

“Re _all_ y?” Scott said, drawling the syllable of the word out. “Didn’t look like nothing to me. Guess it didn’t look like nothing to Danny either.”

The wolf followed his friend’s pointed stare, dread already blooming heavily before he’d even locked onto Danny’s figure standing by Jackson’s Porsche. _Oh shit._ He looked furious, his features drawn and dark, lips pressed in a sharp line. Jackson stood next to him, looking equally angry on his friend’s behalf.

Stiles turned away, bringing a hand up to rub at his face. “This has got to look so bad right now.”

“Kind of.” Scott agreed with a shrug. “I mean, the way Derek was looking at you? I thought he was going to-”

“Nothing is going on, Scott.” He interrupted sharply. “Derek was just concerned. Besides, he’s way too old.”

“For you or for him?”

“Both, okay? Can we stop talking about this now?”

“Sure.” His friend said, patting him on the back placating as he followed him into the front entrance. “Just saying, wish I had some ‘nothing’ going on in my life.”

“Scott, oh my god.”

Avoiding Allison was harder than Scott thought it was going to be. It was like she was suddenly just _everywhere._ Of course, BHH was a small school, so there was that, but still! Most of the day had been spent ducking into empty classrooms and cross hallways. So far, after a narrow escape following their shared first period, Scott had somehow managed to avoid Allison seeing him completely. So as fifth period rolled around, the Beta was starting to feel slightly calmer about the whole thing and not quite so confident that he wasn’t overreacting about everything.

It was almost lunch time and Scott was wrapped up in thinking about where he and Stiles would eat and what was he was gonna get to drink today and what was that smell, when he turned a corner to head over to Stiles’ locker and boom! There she was, less than ten feet away talking to Lydia Martin. Scott let out a choked sound, backpedaling rapidly. Lydia watched him, her face taking on a queer look but luckily Allison’s back was to him. She must have wondered what had caught her friend’s attention, though, because she started to turn. The Beta threw himself back around the corner and into the nearby men’s room, heart pounding.

The door opened seconds before he reached it though and instead of his palms hitting smooth wood, they slapped against a hard chest. Scott, still not quite adjusted to his new strength, had thrown himself forward just a tad bit too hard and sent himself and the body he’d smashed into flying backwards. They crumpled in an undignified pile on the tiled floor and the new wolf winced as his smashed elbow smarted.

“The _fuck,_ McCall?”

Of course it was Jackson. Scott was practically sprawled atop the human and he gave the furious blond a week smile of apology – or attempted too – seeing as Jackson all but threw him off at the next moment.

Scott let out a huff as he picked himself up into a crouch. Sure, he had bowled the human over, but did he really have to throw him? It was an accident after all. Scott let out another disgruntled huff as he picked up his discarded notebook, pushing loose leafs of paper inside it before leaning over to the right to snag his binder.

Jackson must have been turning to – dunno, yell at him some more probably – at the same moment and suddenly he found himself eye level with Jackson’s crotch, so close his nose actually brushed against his jeans.

The wolf gasped in shock and nearly threw himself backwards as his lungs filled with a musky, unmistakably masculine smell. His balance was shot by the act, but his instincts were now too honed to allow him to spill backwards and Scott’s hands shot out on their own violation, one steadying itself on the floor while it’s twin locked onto a jean clad thigh.

…which put his face inches from Jackson’s dick.

Again.

There was a sharp inhale above him and his eyes snapped up in fear and humiliation but Jackson was only staring down at him, face blank. The air around them was filling with a faint yet powerful scent. Scott could only describe the smell as _thick,_ which didn’t make any sense at all, but whatever it was it made his gut clench and quiver. Scott couldn’t stop himself from inhaling again, deeply, and the scent was so strong now that Scott shuddered. He’d smelt this before, but where? It was hard to remember when the world had suddenly erupted into a thousand and one smells that had never been there before.

Jackson’s fists were clenching at his side and Scott should have been afraid that he was about to be hit. His face was practically in the blond’s junk and _why the hell had neither of them moved?_ But it was like the Beta's muscles had solidified and he remained frozen at Jackson’s feet. He could feel the heat of his thigh through his jeans, the muscle taut and hard under his palm and with a jolt Scott realized he was half hard. He stared down at his crotch in shock, mouth open and eyes wide, because _what the actual fuck?_

When he glanced back up Scott’s face burned so hot he was sure it was beat red, because the blond had apparently followed his attention down. Jackson's eyes flickered from his waist back to his face, pupils completely blown, lips curling into a small smile.

“Still so clumsy, huh, Scottie?” And _Christ_ , how was it fair that Jackson could make his voice sound like that? It was low and smooth and shot straight to his dick. Jackson’s grin spread wider, smug and almost victorious, as he stepped around the stunned Beta. “See you around, Princess.”

Scott let out a breath as he found himself alone and still crouched on the bathroom floor. Slowly, the wolf stood, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair before glancing down at the very visible bump in his jeans.

He was hard.

From Jackson.

From Jackson fucking Whittemore.

Who had given him a  _swirly_ in the seventh grade.

 _Jackass Jackson_ had made him hard.

What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t even like guys. He liked girls. Girls. Like Allison! He was…he was…with Allison!

Right? Right.

So why was he so achingly fucking hard?

He let out a whine as he pushed his palm against his erection. The bell sang shrilly and Scott jumped at it. He glanced helplessly from his tented jeans to door and then back to his crotch again.

“Well. Shit.”

He was gonna be _so_ late.

It was luck alone that allowed Stiles to get a shifting Scott off the field and into the locker room without anyone noticing. Stiles had known there was something off with his friend since fifth period when he’d shown up to their brit lit class late smelling like lust, shame, and Jackson. He’d attempted to probe the area delicately but Scott was having none of it, shutting him down politely but harshly. It was clear that had something had happened with Jackson, especially considering the new wolf had just KO-ed his ass.

The Delta had to physically force Scott into the locker room, pushing him roughly as he slammed the door shut behind him. The Beta whirled on him, eyes glowing ominously from behind his helmet and a loud, angry growl escaping him.

Stiles responded in kind, lips peeling back from his elongated canines and he snarled a warning. “You’d better calm right the fuck down, man, I’m not even kidding.”

Scott only snapped at him, claws held loose and ready at his side. Stiles puffed himself up, pushing his shoulders back as his feet slid along the cement, widening his stance. He tilted his head up, keeping eye contact with the practically rabid wolf at the same time.

“Scott. I mean it.” He warned, his own voice dipping into gravely growls.

It was bizarre – insane – it was like Scott was berserking or something. Stiles had never seen a wolf act like this. At least, he had no memory of acting like this himself and he’d never seen his father lose control like this. Jeez, was this what he’d been like when he’d been a kid throwing a tantrum and had no control? If so he seriously needed to let his dad binge eat occasionally.

He saw the strike a moment before Scott shot forward, catching the ripple of muscle before a clawed hand shot out at his face. He nimbly danced away, putting a bench and dirty linen bin between them.

“Buddy, you seriously need to get your shit together,” he snapped out. The team would be returning soon and god knows what would happen if he couldn’t get the other wolf to come back to himself. He gentled his voice. “Come on, Scott. You’ve got push through it, like Dad said. Just try and think and – _goddamn’t!”_

He danced out of the way again, easily climbing up the side of a locker and perching atop it. The crazed wolf followed, trying to charge Stiles in an awkward half crouch run that could only seem like a good idea to someone completely off their rocker. Deciding that enough was fucking _enough_ , the Delta shot forward, cutting off his advance and sending them both flying to the floor.

Scott took the brunt of the impact but it (unsurprisingly) didn’t faze him much. They rolled around for a moment and it was bracing and stupidly done because Scott wasn’t in a right enough mind to actually put up a decent fight against a thinking appointment and moments later Stiles had him pinned. It was awkward as Scott was a little taller than him, but Stiles managed to hold him down, using all his strength to pin both his hands above his head and his hips a heavy weight on Scott’s middle.

The enraged Beta didn’t give up though, struggling like a wild animal in a catch loop, snarling and leaping forward repeatedly in an attempt to rip his throat out.

“Scott – fuck stop that, it’s clearly not working!” The Delta let out a series of loud curses as Scott bucked like a bronto under him. “Jesus, will you stop? People are gonna see this shit and – dude, snap out-”

Suddenly a hand was fisting itself in Scott’s hair, gripping tightly before it slammed the Beta’s head into the painted concrete – _hard_. His friend went completely limp beneath him, features shifting back to human, brown eyes wide and glazed as they stared blankly up at the ceiling.

From where he sat, still posed over Scott, Stiles gaped at Derek.

“Talking wasn’t working,” the older wolf offered with a shrug, “besides, I did warn him.”

And he couldn’t help it, he let out a sharp, bark of a laugh because, _yeah_ , Derek kind of had. He stood, offering a large hand to help Stiles up and he couldn’t help but notice how small his own seemed in it. Derek pulled him up before reaching over and grabbing a sitting bottle of water and upending it on Scott. The younger Beta came to with a gasp, jack knifing up.

“What happened?”

“You tried to kill me, but you were too dumb.” Stiles answered dryly. “You did manage to break Jackson though.”

 _“What?”_ Scott shot to his feet and Stiles couldn’t help it – he tensed – and something in him took a direct, distinctively pleased notice that Derek had shifted immediately in between them in reaction.

“Well, it’s probably not broken. It didn’t sound like a break, anyway.” Stiles amended, taking pity on his friend. The horrified look on Scott’s face was doing a lot to calm his anger into annoyance. “Probably just tore something in his shoulder. Don’t know how he’s going to play though.”

And Scott was looking completely pale now, wavering on his feet.

“I warned you this would happen,” Derek accused darkly, crowding the younger Beta. “I told you that if you didn’t take this seriously you were going to end up hurting someone. You could have killed that boy.”

“I can’t play, can I?” Scott asked softly.

Stiles’ _“probably not a good idea, no”_ came out at the same moment of Derek’s _“not a chance in hell”_ and Scott seemed to droop, curling in on himself. And, well, he did feel bad about that. He knew this was crushing something precious to Scott but it was too much of a risk to let him play when he was so close to losing it.

And that wasn’t a criticism, really. Scott had been a werewolf for all of a _week_.

His friend sniffed, bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his neck. “I thought I was doing better. It’s just…today…”

“Yeah,” Stiles interrupted, leaning against a freshly dented locker, “just what the hell did Jackson do to piss you off that you felt like taking his head off anyway?”

The blush that took Scott’s face was intense. “It’s not – he didn’t-” Scott glanced nervously at Derek, before blushing even harder and staring down at his feet. “Can we talk about this later. In private?”

Stiles let out a groan, face palming openly because _of course_ it had to do with that. As if the ‘Scallison’ thing wasn’t enough now he was going to have to deal with a ‘Jackscott’ situation too.

And so what if Stiles named everyone’s relationships like they were celebrities. It was his mind, damn’t, he’d do whatever he wanted.

There was a creaking sound as the door flew open. _Speak of the devil he will appear,_ Stiles thought grimly. Jackson stood there, alone because practice was still in full swing, and pissed looking. He glared at the three of them, arm cradled against his side, before storming over to his locker and all but pulling it off its hinges.

Scott watched him and, jeez, if he didn’t look like a giant, remorseful puppy as he stared at Jackson’s hunched form. The blond slammed his locker shut and gave them one last, withering glare, before storming out. And then, to Stiles' upmost surprise as Scott’s guilt must be _very_ strong indeed, his friend stepped around them and hurried after him.

From where he stood, Stiles let out a thoughtful hum. 

“Should we go after them?” Derek asked and Stiles cocked his head slightly to the side in thought before shaking it no. He doubted that Scott wanted to hurt Jackson in the first place and now that he had, his guilty conscious would probably keep him from wolfing out again regardless of anything the blond could say to him. There was a sigh from behind him. “He has no idea what’s going on with that, does he?”

“Not a one,” the younger wolf agreed. “But Scott’s a smart boy, he’ll figure it out. Besides, he’s had a lot on his plate the last few days. The last thing he needed was an identity crisis to top it off. Gotta give the poor kid a break.”

“You’re startling mature for a teenager.” Derek said after a moment, almost sounding puzzled, and Stiles sent him a broad smile and two thumbs up.

“I know.”

The older wolf snorted, throwing him a somewhat incredulous look before reaching down and shouldered Stiles’ duffle bag from its cubby. “Ready to go home?”

The teenager nodded and couldn’t help the warmth he felt at Derek referring to the Stilinski house as ‘home,’ nor the slight shiver of pleasure as he was led from the locker room, the Beta’s large hand splayed over his lower back.

“Yeah, I'm ready.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect part two fairly soon. How did you guys like the Jackscott and the Sterek? Any favorite parts?


	9. Saturday Night Lights, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His words struck him like actual blows and Stiles felt like his stomach had dropped out of him completely and he blinked hard against tears, grip so tight around his books the cardboard covers caved slightly because Danny Māhealani – the love of his freaken’ life – was all but calling him a whore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for your guys comments and kudos! They keep me super encouraged to keep writing. Here's the second part of the chapter, un-beta-ed for now, and the third and final part should be up soon as well.
> 
> This part is almost exclusively Sterek, but some Jackscott is on the horizon for part 3.
> 
> Hope you guys like!

**January 24 th, 2011 – Wednesday**

The night air was cool, cold almost, against his skin but Stiles ignored the chill as he lay atop his porch roof. Scott had been over earlier, spread out next to him, and the two had sat together in long moments of maudlin silence.

Today had not been a good day.

To be far, Scott had been mopey ever since he’d gone after Jackson to apologize and the human teen had driven off without hearing him out. The Beta’s depression had only doubled after he’d told Coach he couldn’t play, his spirits dropping even further as the week progressed and received more and more of what Stiles had named the Allison DeathGlare™. Seeing as Scott had refused to give any explanation for his sudden disinterest in her (which was, the Delta could admit, a bit rude even given the extenuating circumstances) and taken to a rather obvious flee on sight approach, the girl was understandably pissed off.

And as for Stiles…well…he’d been pretty alright until this morning. The Alpha hadn’t been heard or seen since the weekend and life had begun to settle into a routine. Scott spent damn near every waking moment at the Stilinski house, which was just fine with him, and the new wolf was making leaps in his control. His father hadn’t been home much but when he did he’d make up for his absence by ordering truly staggering amounts of takeout, which was awesome, and had taken to referring to Derek as ‘son,’ which the younger Beta pretended not to like but Stiles could see how pleased it made him.

So, yeah, life may not have been perfect but they were settling down after the mad sprint that had been the last week.

And then Danny had all but called him a slut in front of the entire school.

Groaning, Stiles threw his arm over his face, hiding his eyes in the crook of his elbow. His ex hadn’t used the word, but the intention was there nonetheless. Danny had watched them arrive with Derek every morning and always looked like someone pissed in his cereal each time, but for some reason today had been different.

_Stiles shut his locker and jumped, reflexes alone keeping him from dropping his math book as a incredibly irate looking Danny was suddenly revealed next to him. The goalie had always smelled like Axe and dogs (his parents ran a doggy daycare, kennel, and breeding center so it was somewhat expected) but today there was also the hot, pungent smell of fury._

_“Oh. Hey, Danny, what’s up?”_

_“Nice hoodie.”_

_Stiles glanced down at the sweater in confusion.  It was Derek’s – the older wolf had tossed it at him after Stiles had bitched and moaned about forgetting his own the entire ride to school - and hung off his frame comically. It was grey and quite faded, the blue ‘NYU’ printing having changed to a soft, feathery color, but it was clean and without holes._

_“Get that from your new friend?”_

_“Um, yeah. I forgot mine and Derek-”_

_“And what part is Derek in the whole, ‘I need to be alone and work on myself,’ thing?” The human all but snarled, face dark and angry. Stiles felt his breath catch, eyes wide._

_“No. No, it’s not like that at all, Danny, really, I-”_

_“Save it. If you didn’t want to date me you should have just fucking told me instead of making up some self-discovery shit.” Danny snapped and his voice as so_ loud _that the entire hallway was staring. The Delta felt the back of neck heat up at the attention. “What, was I not old enough for you, Stiles? Needed a little bit more experience?”_

 _His words struck him like actual blows and Stiles felt like his stomach had dropped out of him completely and he blinked hard against tears, grip so tight around his books the cardboard covers caved slightly because Danny Māhealani –_ the love of his freaken’ life _– was all but calling him a whore._

_The taller teen gave him a withering glare, lips curled slightly in a snarl. “You and McCall are some real pieces of work, you know that? Just do me a favor and stay the fuck away from me and my friends.”_

And then he’d stormed off, Allison and Lydia hurrying after him, faces twisted in worry as if _Danny_ was the one who needed comforting.

He broke up with Danny to try and save him from all this nonsense. Stiles had known that it could only end with the human getting hurt by the ocean of secrets between them and yet even after doing the right thing, he was still hurting Danny. His thoughts were completely caught on his ex, on the hurt on his face and the venom in his words. How had this all just spiraled so out of control? Stiles swallowed hard, feeling himself tear up. God, Danny _hated_ him. He’d never wanted that.

The worst part of it all was that Stiles couldn’t even really deny it, because there was something go on between him and Derek, though it was nothing like what the goalie had been thinking. The chances of it ever being anything like that was slim and the fact that this filled him with disappointment only made him feel guiltier.

He was interested in Derek. There was no way Stiles could deny that the older wolf made his pulse race and his mouth dry. He craved Derek’s attention, looked for him out of every one of his classroom’s windows, wanted to be surrounded by his comforting presence. But Stiles honestly didn’t know if he had feelings for Derek or just his wolf. The Beta was the first wolf that he’d ever met that wasn’t a blood relative. What if this was just some strange biological reaction to that? What if it was all hormones and after they’d finished screwing like bunnies the feelings faded and he was trapped?

The Delta didn’t even know if he wanted what a mating entailed. No, no that wasn’t true. How many nights had Stiles woken, feeling desperately empty and wanting, from dreams of strong arms wrapped tightly around him, of pups with his moles and dark hair? No, he wanted. It was just that he didn’t know if he was ready.

There was no guarantee that a mating ended in a pair-bond, but from what Stiles understood it happened more often than not. His folks had bonded on their first night together. It was the werewolf equivalent of marriage, but unlike the human version pair-bonds were almost always permanent things, lasting until one of the partners died. His father hadn’t been able to explain it to him fully, just told him that when it happened he would know. John had explained that meeting Claudia had been like being hit by cupid’s proverbial arrow – not quite love at first sight but close enough. They’d mated within two weeks. He had just known it was correct; instincts, John had called it.

It wasn’t that farfetched – after all, the only reason why human’s kissed was to further test their pheromone capability through the soft skin of the lips. Stiles had even read a study somewhere that humans were capable of picking out close relatives sweat and urine out of a batch by scent alone and were repulsed by it. It was, supposedly, some sort of evolved ability to prevent incest and pairing off with genetically incompatible mates.

If humans could do that with their infantile senses, Stiles guessed he could go on a little faith and accept that he was somehow subconsciously able to pick out strong, viable mates. So, hypothetically, the fact that Stiles was (so, so) attracted to Derek meant his body had found a more then acceptable mate. But that didn’t make him feel any more comfortable with it or less like a sleezeball.

He was also _sixteen_. He didn’t know if he was ready for a pair-bond, didn’t know if he was ready for the pups that would follow it or the way his life would change forever. Stiles didn’t even like his vagina half the time!

The teenager swallowed hard, feeling tears spill freely down the side of his face.

Fuck.

He wanted his mom so much.

There was a soft sound of impact, slight vibrations traveling through the overlaid shingles, and Derek’s scent wafted over him like a wave. “Stiles?”

The Beta’s voice was soft, hesitant, and Stiles knew he could most likely smell the salt, could hear the way his breath hitched. He dragged his sleeve over his eyes, not bothering to even pretend, and scrubbed them roughly dry against the fabric of Derek’s hoodie as he sat up.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” Green eyes were watching him worriedly, “this about Danny?”

Stiles felt his shoulders drop and stared down at his covered hands, fingertips just barely peeking out from the oversized sleeves. “Kinda, yeah.”

Derek settled next to him, long legs stretching out and past his own. “Scott told me about what happened at school today.”

Of course he did, the Delta thought sullenly before shrugging with an easy nonchalance that he knew was betrayed by the redness of his eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Don’t let the dog get to you.”

Dog? That was a weird insult but Stiles just shook his head and fiddled with the sleeve hem. “It’s just…I mean…we were only together for three months,” which was like light years in high school, honestly, “but I – god, this sounds stupid – I thought we were in love.”

“It doesn’t sound stupid.” Derek answered quietly. “I thought I was in love once when I was your age.”

“It end badly?”

“Yes,” the Beta said darkly, “very. You’re allowed your feelings, Stiles. Age doesn’t take that from you. I don’t quite understand though, why did you break up with him? You obviously still have feelings for him. Scott said it was unexpected.”

“Because of what I am.”

“What?”

Stiles sighed before letting himself fall flat back onto the roof. “I’m so different from everyone else here. Not only did I have cravings for red meat and random urges to take down small dogs growing up, but I had a period. A _period,_ Derek.”

“That’s perfectly natural for a third,” the older wolf answered slowly, head cocked to the side as he watched him in confusion.

“Look, Derek, until you I’d never seen another wolf besides my family. I wasn’t super hopeful I ever would. I figured I’d have to make a life with what I had and for a while I was. I mean, Danny was wonderful but he wanted to-” and damn, Stiles couldn’t believe he was sitting here talking about his sex life with Derek Hale, “- take things to the next level and how could I let that happen? I’m a freak, with extra parts and everything. No way he could have handled that, so I broke up with him.”

“You’re not a freak.” There was something in his voice, something strange underneath the stern tone that Stiles couldn’t quite identify.

He let out a short laugh. “Yeah, well, pretty sure we’re just going to have agree to disagree on that.”

Suddenly Derek was there, hand splayed wide for balance against the shingles an inch from Stiles' face as he practically loamed over his laying frame.

“You are not a freak.” The Beta growled out, green eyes bleeding brilliant blue as they stared down at him, and Stiles instinctively dropped his eyes to Derek’s collar, head tilted down and to the left in deference. A large hand gripped his chin, gently tugging it back up so his eyes met Derek’s once more. “There is nothing wrong with you, do you understand me?” A warning look flashed across the older wolf’s face when he didn’t reply. “Stiles.”

“Yes,” the Delta managed to push out and was startled at how strangled and breathless his voice sounded. He licked his lips on reflex and Derek’s eyes dropped to his mouth, just as it had that night in the woods.

A calloused thumb trailed a path over the apple of his cheek and he felt his heart leap pleasantly when he realized that Derek was tracing over dried tear marks. _Kiss me_ , Stiles thought suddenly, desperately, and he’d never wanted anything more in his life. But he was already pulling away, stretching out next to him on the roof line.

“My favorite uncle was a Delta,” Derek offered after a long moment of silence.

Stiles stiffened where he lay and then immediately forced himself to relax. The other wolf had never talked about his family before. The teen knew they had all died in a fire and from the look on his father’s face whenever he’d asked about it in the past, it hadn’t been an accident. He tried – and mostly failed – to keep his tone casual. “Yeah?”

“Tristan, he was the middle child. My mom was the eldest and Peter was the youngest; only ten years older than me.”

“But Tristan was still your favorite?”

“Peter was…Peter,” Derek said with a soft huff of a laugh, “I never knew if I wanted to punch him or hug him. But Uncle Tristan – he wasn’t like that, he was gentle. Whenever my mom and Peter fought, Uncle Tristan was the only one who could break it up. He was a teacher up at the elementary school and he taught us pack history and rites on the weekends. I used to think he knew everything about everything.” His face had a small, distant smile on his face. “He was beautiful.”

Stiles rolled onto his side, pillowing his head on his curved forearm, a knowing smile on his face. “Sounds like you had a little bit of a crush.”

“What? No. Stiles, he was my uncle.”

“Uh-huh.” His grin widened into more of a smirk, “was he the one who mated with the human male?”

Derek’s face soured and the teenager couldn’t help but laugh at the disgruntled look the Beta threw him. “Mark Thornton, he worked up in the paper mill before it closed.”

“You hated him, didn’t you?”

“Intensely,” the older wolf replied dryly. “I’ll have you know it broke my six year old heart.”

That only sent Stiles into an even stronger fit of giggles, imaging a glowering baby Derek in a tux at some bonding ceremony, and he ended up having to hide his face in his arm to try and control them. When he glanced back up, teary eyed for a much more cheerful reason this time, Derek was watching him almost fondly.

“Did they manage to have any kids?”

“Tristan? No, but Peter was starting a small horde with my Aunt Charlotte.” The Beta answered quietly, features drawn.

“We don’t have to talk about this, if you don’t want to.” Stiles said softly, eyes down as he traced the pattern of ridges on a tarred shingle with his forefinger. “I still don’t like talking about my mom or…or my little brother. He was a Beta, his name was Oscar.” Derek shifted onto his side so they were facing each other but Stiles couldn’t bring himself to meet his eyes. “Oscar was a stupid name anyway. Rupert and Oscar, it’s like they wanted us to be bullied.”

“Your name is Rupert?”

The Delta’s mouth dropped open and he desperately tried to back pedal. “No. No it’s not.”

“Rupert Stilinski.”

“I swear to _Jesus¸_ Derek if you tell anyone I will end you. Do you know how long I had to work to get that thing erased from the social consciousness? Stop laughing, damn’t!”

They stayed out for hours, exchanging stories about the dead, and for the first time in years Stiles remembered his mother with something other than pain. It felt good to talk about her, to tell all the sweet and funny stories about her he remembered. It wasn’t something he could ever do with his father, the pain of losing his mate and pup still too strong for the elder Stilinski. He didn’t think he’d ever feel grateful or thankful for having to speak about her, but he did. The whole thing was amazing and far more freeing then Stiles could ever imagined it could be.

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed out there but at some point he must have fallen asleep, because one moment he was listening to the deep hum of Derek’s voice and the next he was waking up bundled in his bed.

Stiles felt a flush of embarrassment at the thought of falling asleep in the middle of Derek’s stories and then a second, stronger flush of pleasure at the idea of Derek carrying him to bed. Stiles nuzzled into the slightly stretched hoodie neck, allowing himself to breath the Beta’s fading scent in deeply. He could hear the sleep-steady heart beat of Derek in the next room and the equally soft thump of his father’s down below, and Stiles let himself slip back into sleep to the comforting sounds and scents of his pack.

School was awkward the next day. Naturally everyone had known what had happened the day before and it was only made worse when Derek dropped them off that morning. Stiles wasn’t super surprised. The truly epic glares that Scott shot those around him and the general protectiveness his best friend showed over him throughout the day, however, was. His friend had stayed resolutely by his side between class changes and lunch, even if it made him late for his own class or put him near Allison.

It was unnecessary, really, but incredibly sweet.

Scott wasn't having an easy time of it either; public opinion of him was at all-time low. Not only had he injured their star player, but he didn’t even had the decency to replace him in the game. Added to that was the general theory that he’d been a dick to Allison and…well…they were both more than slightly relieved when the jeep (and Derek) drove up after practice. While Scott’s glare was impressive, it had nothing on the older Beta’s and a single, threatening look had shut up a group of vengeful gossipers.

Scott hadn’t come over tonight, he was having dinner with his mom, and Derek had to go down to the office with pops, so he'd spent most of the evening alone. It was a strange experience. Like most kids of single parents Stiles had spent more than enough time alone, but it was the first time since the Alpha and Derek had shown up.

It was unsettling to say the least, but it was necessary. They were trying to get Laura’s body released so that Derek could bury her on the Hale family plot. It was hard though, as the case was still on-going, and even though her death had been declared an animal mauling it was like pulling teeth to get her body out. Even with the Sherriff on his side.

It was making Derek understandably frustrated.

It made Stiles frustrated, too. He hated seeing Derek upset, but it was also that he now knew more about the Hales. Like how Laura had been terrified of swimming in open water because she’d been bitten by a snapping turtle when she was fourteen and had almost lost her toe. Or that she’d once shaved her eyebrows down to a ridiculous line because she’d wanted to look older and had been horrified to find that they never grew fully back.

He wanted to have peace – and justice – for her just as much as Derek did.

The house was eerily quiet, but Stiles tried to ignore it as he set about making dinner. He couldn’t smell or hear anything out of the ordinary, only the same normal evening sounds from the neighbors and the woods around the house.

There was no threat but the Delta couldn’t help the growing nervousness. He couldn’t stop himself from wondering about the Alpha; who he was and where he had come from. And then he just couldn’t get the questions to stop, growing more and more tense with each one.

Why was he doing this? Where had his pack gone? Was he actually rabid? Had he always been mad? What would they do if he could really control Scott? What would Stiles do if he attacked now? He was all alone and wouldn’t stand a chance against an Alpha.

What if he tried to rape him again?

Stiles’ hand shook and the teen cursed as he shakily set down the pepper. He brought a hand up to wipe at his mouth. Stiles had tried hard not to think of what happened in the woods that night and so far he’d been successful. Everything had been so stressful and moving so fast over the last week, between worrying over Scott and Derek and his dad, Stiles just hadn't had the time. 

But now, alone in his kitchen, the teenager found that he couldn’t stop remembering how it had felt to be mounted. He fumbled with the burner on the stove, turning the heat down before leaning heavily on the counter, struggling to control the panic and fear that had blossomed. Why had the Alpha tried to mate with him? Was it just because he was a Delta, would it have been the same if he’d been a female? Had he been male, would he be dead?

Would the Alpha…would he try again?

Stiles let out a choked sound, pressing a hand to his mouth. If the Alpha successfully mated him, would he pair-bond? As much as he wanted to pretend that it was an impossibility – that there was no way he’d ever bond to a monster like that – Stiles could still remember how his body had reacted to the Alpha’s attention. Like with Derek, his body had apparently found the Alpha an acceptable mate.

The idea of being tied to the raging beast for life was repulsive, the thought of carrying his young even more so, and Stiles felt nausea rolling in his stomach. What the hell was wrong with his body that it would find that mad thing as a viable mate?

If he pair-bonded with it, Stiles didn’t know what would happen. He wasn’t anywhere near strong enough to fight him off alone and with the hormones that would come with bonding and pregnancy the Delta didn’t know if he’d even be able to resist his commands. Suddenly he couldn’t escape the image of himself, fat and helpless with child, watching as the Alpha killed his father and Derek and Scott.

He was gripping the counter strong enough that the tile was creaking, eyes squeezed shut as he forced himself to take deep, slow breathes. He stood there, just breathing, trying to calm his racing heart and beat off his over active imagination.

That was how Derek found him, some undetermined amount of time later. The Beta called out to him cautiously from the doorway and Stiles blinked, wiping roughly at his cheeks before reaching over and pushing the bubbling sauce off the live burner.

“Well, that’s ruined.” The younger wolf said with forced cheer, turning and giving the tall wolf a weak smile. Derek didn’t return it, a heavy frown on his face and Stiles turned away, embarrassed at having been caught crying two days in the row. “I swear I’m not normally this much of a little girl.”

“Stiles.”

“I was going to make spaghetti but I’ve seriously burnt the crap out of the sauce-”

“Stiles.”

“- but I think I have enough to remake it, let’s take a look. If not I think I have -” A hand grabbed his elbow, halting his rambling and pulling him away from the open fridge. Derek was standing so close that Stiles’ arm brushed against the zipper of his leather jacket.

“Stiles, what happened? I could smell your fear from the driveway.”

“I’m fine.” He just shook his head, turning to face the stove, testing the residual heat before bringing a damp sponge to scrub at the burnt on tomato sauce. “Where’s Dad?”

“He’s on patrol tonight, you know that.” Derek answered, sounding annoyed, “don’t change the subject. Did Danny do something?”

Stiles closed his eyes wearily, pausing mid-scrub. "No, no nothing like that. It’s just…the Alpha, in the woods, he tried to…to mate with me.”

Derek had gone stiff behind him, “I stopped it.”

“That time.” Stiles managed, voice hoarse, “what about next time?”

“There won’t be a next time.” Derek’s voice was a low growl and Stiles found himself forcibly turned. He refused to look up, though, staring at the dirty green sponge in his hands blankly. “Stiles, there won’t be a next time.”

“You can’t promise that. I’m a Delta, I know…I know what I am.” His voice was small, tinier then Stiles had ever heard it, “I know what he wants.”

Derek inhaled sharply, holding it for a moment before letting out a slow exhale. Long arms pulled him closer and Stiles allowed it, allowed his body to be pressed against a broad chest, head tucked between the slope of the older wolf’s neck and shoulder.

“It won’t happen.” Derek promised, resolute. “I won’t let it.”

Stiles nodded mutely, sponge forgotten as his hands entangled themselves in the fabric of Derek’s shirt front, and tried desperately to believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? Also, seriously, you all need to stop predicting (at least so damn accurately) where I'm going with this story in your comments. Seriously, you jerks, lol. Also, Stiles' first name is taken from the original movie.


	10. Saturday Night Lights, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott and Jackson, Stiles mused as he watched the growing catastrophe, were like polar opposites of a magnet. They were nothing alike – hell, the Delta wasn’t even sure they liked each other – but they were incapable of escaping each others pull.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last part of this chapter.
> 
> Hope you guys like, your awesome comments and kudos helped me get this out so fast.
> 
> As promised, the Jackscott.

**January 26th, 2011 - Friday**

“Is there a reason you’re stalking me, McCall?”

Scott let out a muted sound of surprise as he was cornered in the small shower enclave of the locker room. Jackson was clad only in a pair of gym shorts, his skin soft and dewy looking from the shower. For a moment the Beta found himself incapable of looking away from the human’s chest, eyes following a near invisible trail of blond hair down a sculptured chest to the defined hips, to where a sharp, developed V was peaking out from the elastic waistline.

Holy shit, Jackson’s filled out.

And where the fuck had that thought come from? He’d been playing with (and showering with, for that matter) Jackson for years and he’d never really cared to give a close look to the other male’s physique. Yet now he couldn’t seem to tear his eyes off the blond’s form. Long fingers snapped in front of his face and Scott jerked, his eyes snapping from where’d they locked, lost in thought, on the peach fuzz that trailed down the older teen’s flat stomach. The scent was back, full and mind numbing.

“Uh,” great, off to a good start, “I just wanted to apologize. For hurting you.”

Grey eyes narrowed. “How about you tell me what the fuck has been going with you instead.”

There was a heartbeat of pure panic before Scott reminded himself that there was no way that the other teen could know about him being a werewolf. The Beta swallowed and pressed against the cool tile of the wall, letting the drop in temperature shock his system as he gripped the towel around his waist tighter.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Save the bullshit, little man.” Jackson all but growled, eyes narrowing dangerously. “In a week and half you’ve gone from being a mediocre player to a starter, rejected the first hot piece that’s come to this school in years, and developed a seriously fucked up staring problem.”

Scott tore his eyes from where they’d drifted to admire the taller teen’s chest again, feeling his face flush. “I’m not – I wasn’t -” But god, he was.

“You think I can’t feel your pervy eyes on me all the god damn time? Watching me in class, watching me on the field?” Jackson asked, voice dipping low. He pushed the younger teen roughly backwards, flattening him even further against the tile wall. “Where you getting your juice?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t play games with me, McCall. Is it that Derek character Stilinski is fucking?”

Indignation flared in his chest and he shoved back, restoring blissful distance between them once again. “Stiles is not _fucking_ Derek. And even if he was it would be none of your damn business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

“It doesn’t work that way, Jackson!” Scott snarled, hands balling angrily. “Just because you think that way doesn’t mean that’s how it actually is! Some people have standards.”

“Standards, huh?” The captain’s lip curled slightly. “And tell me, Scottie-boy, where are your standards at? Ditching Allison like that? Breaking the lonely new girl’s heart? That’s cold.”

Scott felt his face heat again, this time with self-reproach as well as embarrassment. “Breaking her – we barely knew each other! And don’t bring her into this.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t!” Scott shouted, his voice echoing across the room and the wolf winced, achingly glad that the locker room was empty and Coach too busy in his office, the oak door firmly shut, to be bothered. “You don’t know the first shit of what’s happening to me, of what I’m going through right now! You didn’t care when I was eight and you sure as fuck don’t care now, so why don’t you just back the fuck off.”

There was a short silence, then, “No.”

“Jesus, Jackson, why do you have to be such an ass about everything?” He snapped, running a hand through his hair in frustration, ignoring how the uncombed mass tore at his fingers. “I just…I just didn’t mean to hurt you and I did and I…I just wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to hurt you or – or anyone!” He crumbled back against the wall, suddenly feeling completely overwhelmed and hurt. He was so stupid to think anything had changed. Jackson was the same lording, conceded jackass he’d always been.

Scott closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his breathing like John had told him to. He was not going to freak out – wolf out – in front of Jackson Whittemore in a fucking towel. He was _not._

“I know you’re afraid of Allison’s dad.”

Scott felt his breathing stop.

Just, stop.

His eyes snapped open at a brush of warmth – nothing more than the heating of air – to find that Jackson had closed the space between them again, arms framing his face as the human leaned forward. Against his will his eyes focused on the angry, blooming bruise on Jackson’s left shoulder; a vivid, mottled purple, a stained testament of skin and blood to his lack of control.

“I know you’re afraid. I know you’re so scared that you can barely function. That’s why you’re not playing, isn’t it?” His breath was a warm puff against his face, smelling slightly of purple Gatorade and the remnants of Jackson’s lunch. “Look at you. You’re shaking.”

And he was, almost bodily. The Beta ducked under Jackson’s arm, hurrying out of the shower enclave.

He scrambled into his clothes, ignoring how the fabric stuck uncomfortably to his damp body, dressing faster than he knew he was capable of, bypassing his boxers and hoodie completely.

 “McCall.”

The stern voice made him pause and Scott forced himself to take a deep, steadying breath before glancing over his shoulder. Jackson was where he left him, grey eyes sharp and mouth drawn in a thin line.

“Jackson, for once in your life leave it alone.”

And then he fled, eyes eagerly seeking the waiting safety of the jeep and his pack.

Scott and Jackson, Stiles mused as he watched the growing catastrophe, were like polar opposites of a magnet. They were nothing alike – hell, the Delta wasn’t even sure they liked each other – but they were incapable of escaping each others pull. Scott’s fidgeting was worse than ever, worse then it been all week, his eyes pinned on where Lydia and Jackson where in a heated argument down the hallway.

_“I don’t date losers.”_

_“Good. Because I’m not a loser.”_

_“Oh?”_ The red head let her gaze slid over his shoulder meaningfully and even from where he stood, the Delta could see that Jackson’s left shoulder was sitting slightly lower and back then his right. _“I’m glad you and I are on the same page then. Because, Jackson,”_ Lydia leaned forward in a single, slick motion that seemed to show off all of her rounded curves and the long, lean length of her body at once, _“I don’t date losers.”_

Then she was slinking away, all hips and legs and god damn, that girl was way too pretty for her own freakin’ good. Before he could even think about stopping him, not that Stiles would at this point, (honestly, this had been building and building for years and it was better that the storm broke sooner rather than later) Scott was making his way over to the older teen, face a mask of determination.

“You can’t play.”

The human slammed his locker shut. “Watch me.”

“Jackson,” Scott hissed, grip tightening on his backpack as his entire countenance became strained, “you’re just going to hurt yourself more.”

And hell, if that wasn’t the exact wrong thing to say there, Stiles thought with a groan as he settled against his locker. He felt bad for watching, especially since Scott clearly had no idea what he was doing and it was pathetic, but he needed to be there in case his friend lost it. And besides he felt he had a bit of a right to it, after all these years of watching this particular little drama play out.

Jackson’s face hardened. “How ‘bout you fuck off, McCall.”

“Jackson!” Scott’s hand shot out, grabbing his unharmed arm. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. Please.”

And there, there it was. The soft look that Jackson got sometimes, the one he only wore around Scott and the one Stiles would have missed completely – the one everyone missed – if he’d not spent the last few years learning to look for it. The Beta’s grip softened, fingers spreading out in what he probably didn’t even realize was a caress, body angled towards the blond as he stared up at him though dark, thick lashes.

A picture, if ever there was one, even if Scott was utterly oblivious to what he was doing, and the Delta actually felt bad for Jackson when the other teen froze, utterly caught.

“I-I hurt you.” Scott managed softly, voice weak and eyes wide and innocent. “If you…I…” his friend floundered for a second, before yet again saying the absolute worst thing possible to someone like Jackson Whittemore, “it’s not worth it.”

Jackson played.

Despite Stiles best efforts, it ended a quarter in with his parents driving him to the ER, their captain's face a mask of pain and agony.

From where he sat on the bench, hands white-knuckled against the wooden edges, Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen Scott’s face so grey.

God, what the hell was he doing here?

Stiles was going to kill him if he found out that he’d left his house after curfew alone, yet here he was, standing in front of the freakin’ _palace_ the Whittemores' called a suburban three person family home. It was a giant thing (with a four car garage, guest house, pool and tennis court) and the dark house loomed over him. But he had to know. Had to know if Jackson was alright, if his shoulder had been hurt even more because it was Scott’s fault. Gathering the courage, the new wolf leapt up the side of the house.

It was easy enough to find Jackson’s room – the blond’s scent so saturated that it drifted out from the partially open window. His captain was still awake, standing in the center of the room and glaring at a full length mirror. Or, to be more precise, at the sling his casted arm was hanging in. That alone gave him the courage to knock on the glass.

The human jumped, spinning around before Scott was treated with a rare sight; a completely stunned, startled Jackson Whittemore. The teen stared at him for a moment, mouth agape and grey eyes wide, before storming over to the window and physically dragging him inside. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

He gave the furious teen a weak smile. “I wouldn’t have fallen.”

“My Dad owns a .45 and he’s trigger happy, you idiot. How the hell did you even get up here?”

“Oh. I – uh – climbed.”

Jackson snorted, running a hand through his short hair before sighing. “Look, what are you doing here? Come to gloat or something? Tell me ‘you told me so?’”

“What?” The Beta asked, truly startled. “No! I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I hadn’t heard anything after your parents took you away and I…”

…was worried.

He was worried.

Worried enough to brave the Alpha and the Stilinskis' considerable wraith to sneak out and come check on him.

Jackson sighed, running a hand yet again through his hair, looking thoroughly angry. “You have got to stop this shit, McCall.”

“I’m-”

He was what? Sorry? Scott wasn’t. He’d wanted to know, almost desperately, that Jackson was okay. He wouldn’t apologize for that. And, chin jutting out determinedly, he told Jackson as much. The human stared at him for a long moment.

“You have got to stop this shit, do you understand me?” The blond repeated, taking another step forward and the wolf felt his breath hitch. “McCall, _damn’t.”_

He was being asked something here, something horribly, terribly important, but damn it all if Scott knew _what_.

“Jaxs…” the childhood nickname slipped out before he could stop it, helpless and confused, but Scott barely had any time to feel embarrassed about it before he found himself pinned flat against Jackson’s wall, a warm mouth devouring his own. Scott gasped, eyes fluttering shut as his hands instinctively flew up to grip at strong triceps.

Oddly, the first thing that came to mind was _how the hell could Stiles not tell me kissing felt so good?_ But then Jackson’s tongue was _in his mouth_ and the wolf found he couldn’t think about anything at all. He melted, body trapped almost limp between the hard wall and an equally hard body.

Jackson explored his mouth like he owned it; with the same sure, easy arrogance that ruled his daily actions, his clever tongue tracing the lines of Scott's teeth and tangling with his tongue. The Beta whimpered. He hadn’t known – hadn’t even begun to think – but yes, this was exactly what he needed. What he’d wanted, what he’d come here for somehow, without ever even knowing it. It felt as if he’d somehow been waiting for this for ages but -

_Too much, too fast!_

The scent from before was everywhere, heavy and thick around him, filling Scott’s senses until he was overwhelmed.

 _Sex_ , he realized abruptly. That was what he’d been smelling. What he was smelling now.

From Jackson.

From _himself._

Scott whimpered again and Jackson swallowed the sound until it was nothing but a hum in the quiet room. The first, almost desperate roll of their hips sent his head snapping back, impacting the wall hard, white flashes dotting his vision. Large hands framed his hips, injury seemingly forgotten, and Jackson let out a low curse, his hips dragging even harder against his own, a heated mouth locking onto his neck and sucking hard.

Scott’s hand scrambled for purchase – against Jackson, against the wall, against himself – before settling themselves in a tight grasp around the older teen’s neck. He could feel his control start to fray, splintering with each tight, lazy grind of Jackson’s clothed cock against his own. The Beta let out a pitched whine, hips jerking forward uncontrollably as the human bit down hard against his neck, his erection catching in short, hiccuping thrusts against Jackson's thigh.

“Fuck,” the blond muttered, the word muffled and distorted by Scott's skin.

Fear was warring with lust; Scott could feel his wolf just underneath his skin, like its own sentient being, snarling to be let loose. But he couldn’t let it – the thought of hurting someone (of hurting _Jackson)_ again was too much. He tugged at the blond's short locks, trying to dislodge him from where he’d taken up patiently worrying his neck and when the hell had that become such a trigger for him? He reached for something, anything, to stop everything.

“What about – _ohgod_ – Lydia?”

He received a low grunt in response and _oh_ , Jackson was so hard and long and thick against him. Scott felt his eyes roll back slightly as a particular thrust ground their lengths together perfectly, momentarily robbed off all thought or semblance of cohesion. The sharp bite of his canines against his lips were enough to remind him, though.

“J-Jackson, Lydia!”

“We’re not like that.”

“What?”

“Damn't, Scott.” The teen panted, pulling back from his neck to look at him in annoyance. “We have an open relationship, now shut up and let me fuck you.”

_Oh…oh god._

The world was slipping in and out of extreme sharpness, the contrast so great that there was a sharp ping of pain above his eyebrows, as the new wolf fought desperately to stay in control. “N-No, we can’t. It’s not-”

“Fucking – I’ll break up with her.” Jackson said sharply, and _what?_  “Like she’d give two shits.” Hands curved around his hips to grasp his ass, squeezing roughly before following the curve of his cheeks deeper.

“Jesus,” the blond rasped as Scott honest to god whined, mouth dropping open as fingers pressed insistently over his covered hole. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ the sounds you make.”

Scott’s legs spread wider on their own accord, body seemingly torn between rocking forward to meet Jackson’s thrusts and panicking because what the hell was he _doing?_ He didn't like guys Scott thought, desperately, even as he pressed back against Jackson's probing fingers tellingly. He'd never - but even as he thought it, the Beta knew it to be at least a partial lie. Boys, perhaps not, but Jackson...Scott hid his face against the blond’s shoulder and desperately tried to hold onto the shreds of his control, of his _sanity._ The Beta's cock was sensitive to the point of pain; the overstimulated flesh straining against the confines of his jeans, leaking so profusely that the cotton of his boxers had formed an uncomfortable second skin. Each bump slide of Jackson against him was a brilliant flash of pleasured agony.

Scott's head thrashed, cheekbone smacking against the taller teen’s jaw, but the pain only seemed to spur him on more, and Jackson’s hips ground harder, rough handhelds on Scott's ass guiding their movements to perfect synchronization. “Ja – Jackson, please!”

The Beta was already close, embarrassingly so, but if Jackson’s heaving chest was any indication he was doing no better.

“Shit. Wanted you for so fucking long.” The mouth was back at his neck, nipping and sucking and licking and it was the single best moment of Scott McCall’s entire life and – _and he wanted to bite, wanted to rip, wanted to scream and tear and mark him because Jackson was hishishishis_ his _–_

He pushed the blond so far away Jackson actually stumbled into his desk hard enough to send his laptop flying. Grey eyes glared up at him from where he’d caught himself, gym shorts tented obscenely, face livid and confused.

And hurt, Scott thought with a flair of deep routed guilt.

 _“What the fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“I don’t – I can’t!” Scott managed around heaving breathes, his voice muffled around the palm he was using to try and shield his elongated teeth. He felt like he was going to cry. His cock was aching and hard in his jeans, his balls throbbing in a way he didn’t think was possible. Everything inside the young wolf was screaming at him to finish it, to let Jackson finish it, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t, not if it meant hurting Jackson again.  

A thought struck him then, terrible in its implications.

What if…what if the Alpha followed his scent here? Or the hunters? Derek said they’d use anything. What if he got Jackson killed? Oh god, he’d been so stupid to come here!

“I have to leave. Now.”

“Like _hell_ -”

“You don’t understand!” And holy hell, was that shrill thing his voice? “I can’t get you involved in this shit. Lock your window – stay…” images of the blond, torn apart and bloody like that girl in woods filled him and Scott felt his stomach rebel. “Stay inside. I have to – I have to _leave!”_

Something indefinable flashed across the blond’s face, more like concern then the wolf was willing to admit. “Scott-”

But he was already fleeing, again, out the open window, stumbling across the roof and sliding easily down the side. There was a shout of his name but Scott didn’t stop, sprinting as hard as he could towards the only safe place he knew.

Towards Stiles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eh, don't know why, but I'm nervous? You like?
> 
> ...and I just could not resist putting in parts of the Juice scene. It was too awesome to pass up.
> 
> Just want to point out something I was gonna say to AlecMcDowell (who was the first reviewer of this chapter, cause, well, Alec is awesome like that): 
> 
> Teenagers do tend to think with their dicks, but Scott /always/ seemed submissive to me. He just...did. ::shrugs:: Part of the reason why season 3 seemed hard for me to get into. As for Stiles, well, you can be submissive in the relationship sexually and still be in control. As a woman, I can assure you that liking to be man handled/taken care of doesn't equate not being the one in control of the relationship. After all, as a super girly chick movie which I will never admit to seeing once said, the man may be the head of the family, but it is the wife that is the neck. They can turn it anyway they like.
> 
> This entire fic is to be a challenge to the A/B/O and the gender issues it brings up so wonderfully in it.
> 
> I have plans. Oh, do I have plans.
> 
> ::cackle::
> 
> Just wait and see, my friends.


	11. The Merits of Being a Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He poured himself a healthy amount before heading out to the porch. He kept a set of cigars – again, something he really enjoyed for the taste but didn’t effect him at all – and settled against a support post, lost in thought. If Tom Connell had felt even an inch of what he was, John couldn’t believe he hadn’t ended up in an unmarked grave somewhere. John snorted, swallowing half his drink in one go, and tried to picture himself a grandfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed John...
> 
> Also, I rewrote parts of the last chapter so you may want to go re-read it. Nothing to major, but thought I'd let you guys know. Un-betaed for now.

**January 28 th, 2011 - Sunday**

John let out a tired, relieved sigh as he pulled the cruiser into his driveway. He shut the car off, climbing out with a stretch. It was good to be home. He’d been spending an inordinate amount of time down at the station, far longer then the norm even for his position as Sheriff. The Alpha was to blame for that, naturally.  
  
As was Wells.  
  
The human deputy had really never forgiven the werewolf for winning the last election and went out of his way to cause dissent around the office. He was still bitching to whoever would listen how Derek and Stiles had been given preferential treatment and how the Hales had always been trouble, always thought they were above the law, always got away with murder, and yada yada. The guy had been running his mouth nonstop and John was damned if he was going to let the SOB turn his people against him due to his absence.  
  
So he’d been practically been living at the station, which while the best course of action, left his son alone far more he was comfortable with. Not to mention it left Scott alone as well and John had really meant to spend more time with the new Beta. He could remember what it was like when he first turned. He hadn’t been much older then the boys and it had been one of the most exciting and terrifying times of his life.  
  
He also knew what it was like to go through it alone; John’s Alpha had never shown up to claim him. He’d been bit one night while out drinking. He’d been eighteen and terrified of himself, so he left home and took up the life of a drifter, living off the land and traveling from Ohio all the way over to Oregon before he’d finally met a seventeen year old Claudia Connell and her parents. The rest, as they say, was history. Two weeks after meeting Claudia, the two were bonded. A year after that Stiles was born. Another year saw the death of Tom Connell, the small pack's Alpha and the sternest man John had ever known, at the hands of a traveling hunter.  
  
Shortly after that they’d taken to the wind, seeking to find a new home further away from the city to cut down chances of running into other packs and out of fear that the hunter would return. They’d settled in North Dakota on a farm and John, having been a son of farmers from the middle of nowhere, Ohio, had loved the life. It had been perfect. Wesley, his wife’s Dame, was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and could have as many transformative episodes as he wanted in the wide open space, running free and happy with the mind of a thirteen year old, utterly convinced John was his older brother Harry and Claudia his younger sister Francis.  
  
It was a happy life.  
  
Stiles was a charming toddler, a Delta, which was something John had had to adjust to. But he’d thought he’d had the best of both worlds, Stiles was like having a daughter and a son at the same time. Adorably sweet as he played in his play house and put his babies down to sleep and utterly rambunctious, constantly covered in mud and bringing home baby animals to hide under his bed to the horror of his mother. When they’d gotten pregnant a second time John had only been overjoyed, envisioning blue eyed pups following their older brother around with blind admiration. Just like he had with his older brother. He’d lost Jake in Vietnam but John had nothing but happy memories of his brother and he wanted that desperately for Stiles.  
  
But then…  
  
Beacon Hills was a start over for the three of them, a second chance to find happiness. Wes had been more or less lost to time as the years went, but John cared for him diligently. The old Delta had been the kindest, most caring man he’d ever met and had always treated the Beta like a son, warming to him instantly when it would take Tom years to accept his presence.  
  
The house was silent save for the soft sounds of the television and the steady beats of the sleeping kids, so John kept his actions slow and quiet. He hung up his jacket and tried to banish the melancholy from his heart. If only Claudia could see how their pack was growing; see Stiles alive and brilliant at sixteen, see the kindness of Scott, and the gentleness of Derek. She would have been so happy…  
  
John rounded the corner, fully intent on shutting off the tv before heading up to bed and froze.

The kids were asleep alright, but they weren’t in their bedrooms by any means.  
  
Derek was crashed on one end of the couch, head tilted back at what couldn’t have been a comfortable angle, long legs out and crossed on the coffee table, one arm stretched along the spine of the couch while the other hung off the arm. Stiles was against his side, mouth slightly open as he snored, legs tucked against his rump as his head rested on Derek's shoulder.  
  
It was awkward looking, as if the two had just fallen against each other which, John mused, was probably what happened. He should be flattered that neither wolf woke up at his presence. He expected that from Stiles; his son associated his scent and the sound of his heart with safety and love, but it was flattering to see the same amount of trust from Derek. The boy was, understandably, a bit gun shy when it came to trusting people.  
  
And while the Sheriff was flattered, no doubt about it, he was also disturbed. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he gave the pair a disgruntled look. The wolf had been waiting for this day since Stiles had first gotten his period at thirteen, but that didn’t make it any easier for him to realize his little boy was growing up.  
  
He supposed if it was going to be anyone, John should be grateful it was Derek. He was incredibly loyal, with protective instincts out the rear. He had no doubt that there was little Derek would allow to happen to either Stiles or Scott as long as he could prevent it. He was a put together young man, with a degree from an acclaimed university and a lifetime of knowledge of the werewolf world; hopefully his experience would serve as a guide for his young pack mates.  
  
He was also a good person.  
  
John had always had a nose for people, even before he became a wolf, and he was confident that Derek Hale was a good kid. He would be a fine addition to their pack and he had little doubt that he would become a pack member. His obvious attraction to his son aside, there was little about Derek that singled him out as an Omega. He wasn’t a follower by any means, but the younger Beta was certainly not a loner either.  
  
Still, John didn’t know if he was ready to watch his baby boy pair-bond. John supposed he should be overjoyed that Stiles had made it to sixteen, both Wes and Tom had told him that wolves tended to mate young, especially when they were natural born like Stiles.  
  
…he needed a drink.  
  
The Beta’s moves were still soundless as he made his way to their small bar and opened a bottle of his favorite scotch. While John hadn’t been able to get drunk since he was eighteen, he still enjoyed the taste of alcohol in all its form.  
  
The strong scent of the scotch filled the air and as he watched, both wolves reacted. Stiles’ nose scrunched, letting out a soft snuffle before curling even tighter in on himself, turning his face until it was completely hidden in the crook of Derek’s neck. The older wolf shifted, frowning in his sleep before the arm on the couch slid down to wrap around his son’s form possessively, head lulling to the side as he pressed his nose in the Delta’s short hair.  
  
Definitely needed a drink.  
  
He poured himself a healthy amount before heading out to the porch. He kept a set of cigars – again, something he really enjoyed for the taste but didn’t effect him at all – and settled against a support post, lost in thought. If Tom Connell had felt even an inch of what he was, John couldn’t believe he hadn’t ended up in an unmarked grave somewhere. John snorted, swallowing half his drink in one go, and tried to picture himself a grandfather.  
  
A sound drew his attention and John tensed, dropping both the cigar and the drink on the railing before making his way down into the back yard. He drew his gun, slipping the safety off of it before he made his way towards the wood line. Tom had left behind a box of silver bullets years ago and with the emergence of the rogue Alpha, John had dug them out of his sock drawer with grim reluctance.  
  
The sound of hurried footsteps increased and John brought his gun up, steadying it against his arm before nearly choking on his own spit. Scott stumbled out of the woods, pale and teary eyed and John nearly broke the safety off his gun, he flicked it on so harshly. He shoved the pistol back into its holster, meeting the distraught teenager halfway. “Scott? What happened, are you alright?”

The new Beta was shaking, bottom lip quivering, but seemingly unharmed. “I’m fine. I just need to talk to Stiles.”  
  
He looked so far from okay that it was almost comical. “He’s asleep right now, buddy. What’s going on?”  
  
The trembling in Scott’s lips increased and John shook his head. The boy had been like a second son to him for years, with John sort of falling into the father role after Scott started spending more and more time around the house. Having been the son of a deadbeat dad himself, the Beta could more than identify with the angry little boy. And Scott had been angry. Angry and hurt and lost. There was no limits to what the older Beta would do if he ever met that piece of shit Andrew McCall. Scott’s father had left Melissa shortly after he’d become employed with the FBI and seemingly set about replacing his family. He’d even married another nurse, for christsake, a colleague of Melissa’s that had practically been the woman’s best friend.  
  
“Please, I just really need to talk to him."

John reached out, gently pulling the teenager to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, fingers carding comfortingly through the soft hairs at the boy’s nape. Scott leaned heavily into the contact. Wolves were tactile creatures and Scott had always been a touchy kid. “Come on, Scott.” He said softly, guiding the young wolf to the nearby patio set. “Tell me what’s going on. You fight with your mom?”  
  
“No.” Scott said miserably, nearly collapsing into the lawn chair. “I’m sorry. I know I’m not suppose to be out with the Alpha but…but…everything’s so crazy. I thought – I dunno – I thought that everything was going to be so much better 'cause of the turn, but now everything is ruined.”  
  
Rolling his eyes mentally at the dramatics, John pulled a chair closer and settled into it. “This about that Allison girl?” There was a mournful shake of the head. “So, Jackson then?”  
  
Scott started, staring at him in shock and he gave him a small smile. “I – how did you know that?”  
  
“I’ve got my ways.” And Stiles had talked to him about what he labeled the ‘Jackscott Situation’ several times in the past, torn about whether or not he should mettle or let it run its own course. Besides, he’d have to have been blind to have missed the tension between the two over the years. “Come on, kiddo. You can talk to me.”  
  
The teenager looked repulsed, “dude, you’re like my dad!”  
  
John felt his heart warm, giving the boy a fond smile. Scott couldn’t have paid him a nicer complement. “Believe it or not, I was young once. Besides, I don’t see how this can be any worse then the sex talk.”  
  
“You promised we’d never talk about that again!” Scott all but wailed, cheeks red even in the darkness. But his defacto son seemed to have made a decision because he let out a weak sigh, hands fiddling with the edge of his shirt. “It’s just…I’m not gay!”  
  
John nodded slowly, careful to keep his voice neutral, free from any inflection that could be taken as judgement. “You know it would be fine if you were, right? No one would judge you, no one’s going to love you any less. Especially your mom.”  
  
Scott looked away, seemingly unable to meet his eyes. “I’m not gay.” He said again and the older Beta felt for him. The poor kid was going through enough, what with being freshly turned and dealing with what that meant about his humanity, without having to be a teenager as well. “I like girls. I like – I liked Allison.”  
  
“The Argent girl.”  
  
“Yeah,” the teenager said, seeming to sink down even further, “At least I thought I did. But…” his hand pressed against his side, the one where the bolt Stiles had told him about had undoubtedly pierced, and for a long moment they fell into silence. Scott was silent in thought, leaking fear and confusion, most likely reliving the moment he’d almost died. John was silent for a completely different reason. His first instinct when told that someone had shot one of his boys was to go return the favor to Christopher Argent. He had settled for pulling both him and his wife over for a speeding ticket. The older wolf fought the red that was temporarily bleeding across his vision and reminded himself that he needed to be calm, that the last thing the skittish Beta could take right now was his anger.  
  
“I don’t even know if Allison is a hunter, but I can’t get within three feet of her without freaking out," and now John was positive he needed to make more time for the kids, because being shot was no small ordeal and it was clear that there would be long standing consequences. He'd known guys in the force who'd gotten PTSD over less, "and Jackson,” Scott shook his head miserably, “Jackson and I were friends – best friends, I guess – when I was little. But after my dad left he didn’t want to hang out with me anymore. He was such a dick to me, every day for years, but these last couple days he’s been…and just now,” he cleared his throat awkwardly and when he spoke next his voice was a whisper, “he, uh, kissed me.” Then, even quieter, “and I liked it, I think.”  
  
Scott let out a loud groan, head snapping back as he pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes.  
  
“This is so embarrassing. I can’t believe I’m talking to you about this.”  
  
“You can talk to me about anything, kiddo.”  
  
“Yeah,” another groan, “I know. But this is just…” He let out a disgruntled sound. “I just don’t understand what’s changed. Jackson didn’t even like me two weeks ago.”  
  
John leaned back in his seat, careful not to look at the teen as he worried a loose thread at the seam of his uniform pants. “Maybe nothing did.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Scott, surely you’ve noticed that’s it easier for us to tell what people are feeling. I’ve been going to your games since junior high and Jackson has been on all of your teams. I can’t tell you what he’s feeling, but I can tell you that it’s not hate.”  
  
There was a long, long silence. “But Jackson’s always been so mean to me. He never even told me why we weren’t friends anymore.”  
  
“Look, kiddo,” John said gently, giving the confused boy a soft smile, “you were…difficult…after your father left and Jackson had a lot of things going on in his own life. Maybe he just couldn’t handle it? You were both pretty young.”  
  
“Yeah, what could Jackson possibly have wrong in his perfect little life?”  
  
The older Beta felt his eyebrows rise at the venom in those words, before coming to a decision. “What I’m about to say you can’t repeat, you understand?” He received a slow, cautious nod. “Right about the time your dad left, Jackson found out he was adopted. He overheard his parents talking about it.”  
  
The poor kid had been devastated by it, apparently, rocked by both the knowledge that his parent’s weren’t his and that someone hadn’t wanted him. That wasn’t actually the case, Jackson’s biological parents had been killed in a car crash, but learning your life was a lie at the tender age of eight was a blow, regardless.  
  
“I only know about it because he ran away from home and I’d just started working for the department. I found him walking down Route 2, completely inconsolable. He didn’t talk to anyone for weeks, we had to get a social worker involved.” He still had one, actually, but that was little too much information to be giving out. John reached out, patting the stunned boy’s knee. “What I’m trying to say, is that Jackson’s had a lot to work out on his own. I think the reason he acts the way he does is he feels like he has to prove something to everyone, prove to his parents that he was worth it. And maybe to himself.”  
  
There had been a handful of calls about the Whittemore kid that John had had responded to over time, mostly revolving bullying or fighting charges. Scott looked as if he’d just had his entire world rocked, and maybe it had been. He was still very young and it took a long time to learn empathy. Some people went their whole lives without it.  
  
“Don’t look like that, it’s alright. You’re still young, Scottie, and you’ve had your own demons to deal with.” John stood, “come on. I’ll drive you home. I’m not going to yell at you for being out, but the Alpha’s no joke. I don’t want you wandering around anymore, alright? You've got my number, and I know you have Stiles. Call us if you need us. Any time, even if its late.”

The teenager nodded, following him up into the house. The older Beta gathered the remains of his cigar, scooping up the glass and placing it in the kitchen. Scott stood in the hallway, staring into the living room in surprise. John just rolled his eyes, knowing what he was seeing, before pulling on his jacket and fishing his keys off the hook.  
  
“Let them sleep. Come on.”  
  
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” The teenager said sheepishly, following out to the cruiser. “So, I mean, uh, that.”  
  
“I’d rather not talk about it, Scott.” John said magnanimously as he climbed into his car.  
  
“Right, right.” The teenager said with a strained laugh as he put his seatbelt on. “I mean, though, Derek’s a good guy and-”  
  
“Scott.”  
  
“Right. Not talking about it.”  
  
Damn, John felt so old all the sudden. He supposed that this was the nature of things though, he mused as he backed up, but it seemed like it was only yesterday that all he had to worry about was the boys staying up all night playing video games. Now he had to worry about pregnancy and bondings and unmarked graves of his own. Someone should have told him that having kids was so exhausting.  
  
“Seriously though,” Scott said after a moment, staring at the dashboard like it was the most interesting thing in the world, “you’re a good dad. I…I wish you were mine.”  
  
John felt the tension melt out his frame and didn’t even try to fight the grin before deciding, what the hell, it was totally worth the grey hairs.  
  
“You’re mine in all the ways that matter, kiddo."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> John's awesome. 
> 
> Period.


	12. Pack Mentality, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Wouldn’t have anything to do with that ‘shit’ you don’t want me to get involved in, does it?” The blond sneered, watching as the color drained from Scott’s face. He felt worry flare in chest and pushed it away angrily. He didn’t want to be worried. He didn’t want to care. But what the hell had McCall gotten himself mixed up in? Scott shook his head again, sputtering out denials, but the kid was literally shit at lying and Jackson grit his teeth. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Over a thousand kudos.
> 
> Jesus guys, thanks.

**January 28 th, 2011 - Sunday**

Stiles awoke slowly to a painful crick in his neck. The Delta let out a soft sound of distress, eyes fluttering open as he brought a hand up to rub at the sore skin. Or, at least, he tried to. He was surprised to find his arm pinned under a larger one, one that was wrapped tightly around his compressed form. For a long, sleep stupid moment the wolf just stared at in confusion before his mind erupted with the realization that the arm belonged to Derek and yes, the solid warmth he was pressed so intimately against was his broad form.

The blinking light from the VCR read 5:58, Stiles wouldn’t need to be awake for hours. The position on the couch was hardly the most comfortable, but thanks to a knitted afghan that had been draped over them it was warm. The teenager felt his face heat up with the knowledge that when they’d been watching the movie last night the afghan had been tucked away in the hall closet. Which meant that his father had found them like this. Letting out a groan the wolf shifted, trying to find a way to escape so he could go die of embarrassment in private but the arm around him tightened, pinning him firmly against Derek’s side as the Beta let out a warning growl. The Delta froze mid-fidget, letting his body go lax once more. The almost painful grip around him loosened immediately.

Cautiously he shifted until he had a shoulder free, bracing his hand on his knee and pushing gently until most of his upper body was free from the big wolf. His neck was stiff as he straightened it and Stiles rolled his head from side to side, trying to stretch the muscles. Stiles+ sighed, worrying his bottom lip as he debated about how his chances at escape faired and if he was going to be forced to wake the older wolf up to do so, and if so just how awkward was that going to be.

With a wince he turned to look at Derek, neck complaining loudly, and found his breath catching at the sight. The other wolf was still completely out, head resting on the back of the couch, face tilted towards Stiles. They were so close that Stiles could feel the warm brush of the Beta’s breath curl against his face with each exhale.

God lord, he was such a pretty, pretty man.

In sleep, Derek seemed suddenly years younger, the ever present frown and stress lines absent for once. The Delta felt his face soften at the sight, eyes roaming freely over the handsome face. He traced over strong features; the defined nose, the sharp cut of Derek’s jaw, the thick furrows of his eyebrows, and Stiles felt his fingers twitch with the urge to touch. Derek’s looks had never escaped his notice, just like how wonderful he smelled hadn’t.

His scent was clean and deep and…well, for lack of a better way to put it, manly. Like how Stiles had always imagined a man should smell and with Derek asleep, the teenager figured it was safe enough to revel in it. Stiles let himself sink into the warm body next to him once more, nuzzling his cheek against the fabric of Derek’s shirt sleeve and allowed himself several deep, greedy inhales, eyes growing half lidded with each intake. The scent was everywhere, in his clothes and on his skin and Stiles felt utterly saturated with it, almost drunk on it.

On Derek.

The muscles underneath him twitched, the arm around him loosening as a large hand trailed a warm path up along the length of his thigh and back, hitching slightly as calloused skin caught on the soft cotton of his shirt before coming to a rest in the smooth area between his shoulder blades, finger tips just long enough to press against the skin above his collar. He glanced up to find a sliver of green watching him.

“Hey.”

“Hey.” The Beta parroted, voice scratchy with sleep, “wha' time?”

“Early.”

Derek nodded sluggishly, “need something?”

Stiles shook his head mutely, incapable of speaking because Derek was unbelievably _cute_ like this, all bleary and softened by sleep. He blinked at him before shifting, legs dropping from the table as he angled his body into something more comfortable. He tugged the afghan up further over them both before settling an arm over his shoulders, tugging him closer. “Go back to sleep.” 

Stiles nodded and he let himself be drawn in once more. Derek’s head settled against his own, his breath a warm constant as it ghosted down the back of his neck and he curled his fingers in the loops of the knit afghan, eyes already slipping closed. The Delta had never felt so safe, so comfortable, as he did in that moment, encircled in the warmth of the older wolf’s body.

He never wanted to leave.

Stiles woke first again. The absence of his father’s heartbeat told him it was well after ten, as he knew John was leading a search force to roam through the east forest where a large number of deer had been found slaughter a few days ago at that time. He was able to escape easily enough this time, though he couldn’t deny that it took him over five minutes before he reluctantly tore himself away from Derek’s warmth. He padded up to his bedroom, brushing his teeth and washing his face before heading downstairs again with the intent to start a late breakfast.

Stiles paused in the doorway to the living room, watching the fascinating sight of the Beta asleep for a few more moments, before heading into the kitchen and putting a pot of coffee on. He’d settled on hashbrowns and toast, with a side of bacon and sausage, and bemoaned the loss of his normal Sunday chocolate chip pancakes. No one could make pancakes like his dad did. He was almost done, the scents filling the kitchen utterly delicious and mouthwatering, when he heard the sound of shuffling from the living room.

“Morning,” a gruff voice greeted from behind him.

“Good morning. Coffee’s ready,” he nodded towards the machine, “food’s almost done. I’m only sorry you didn’t get a chance to have Dad’s pancakes. He’s like a kagillion times better at breakfast foods then I am.”

“I like your cooking.” Derek grumbled as he brought the cup up to his mouth and Stiles didn’t even attempt to deny the flair of self-satisfaction at the praise.

“Well, I am boss.”

“I’m getting old,” he mused, watching as Stiles deftly slid the meat out of the pan.

“Why do you say that?”

“I barely understand what you and Scott say half the time.”

Stiles threw the older wolf a half grin from where he was draining the excess grease into an old coffee can. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but your music taste? Grunge was supposed to die with the nineties, Derek.”

“I have better credit then you.” He defended casually and Stiles let out a bark of a laugh, caught completely off guard, the pan jerking and unleashing a stream of hot grease onto his wrist. He yelped, the pan crashing loudly against the floor as he leapt away from it.

Derek was at his side in a second, bodily dragging him to the sink and holding his hand under the cold water. Stiles whimpered, blinking hard against tears at the exaggerated feel of the water as it struck his skin. The entire length of his wrist and thumb was a brilliant red and already rising in angry bubbles, throbbing waves of heat and pain shooting across his hand and up his wrist. The Delta couldn't help the deep whines of pain that escaped him. Derek tucked him tightly against his chest, one hand entangled with his own under the water while the other reached up to his nape in a firm scruffing.

“It’s alright, you’re already healing.” The older wolf soothed, voice calm and steady, and true to his word as Stiles watched the broken and bubbled skin began to flake off, pushed up and off by the healing skin and the force of the water. He shuddered at the feel and sight of it, pain still lancing up his arms in unforgiving waves, nausea rising with each slip of skin that slid off.

“Don’t look,” Derek instructed, turning his head so that his face was hidden against his collar bone, “deep breathes. You’re almost done.” It  seemed agonizingly long, the wait for his healing to kick in, even though Stiles knew it was less then a minute before the pain started to lessen and fade away. “There,” the hand holding his own squeezed gently, “feeling better?”

Stiles nodded, pulling his face free to stare at the whitening skin. “That sucked.”

“I bet,” Derek agreed, voice still forcibly light. “I’ll keep my jokes to myself next time.”

Stiles shook his head, pulling his hand from the water to stare at the healing flesh. “No, I was just clumsy. You’re not that funny, dude, sorry.”

There was a soft laugh, one that Stiles could actually feel, and with a start he realized he was still pressed against Derek’s chest. He licked his lips, suddenly overly aware of every place the two of them were touching. A hand was still resting on his neck, lighter than before but still firm, a thumb rubbing a short repeating path up and down over his pulse point. A surge of want accompanied the realization and the Delta shivered as he felt the echoing spike of pleasure between his legs.

Stiles swallowed and took a step back, forcing the hand on his neck to drop, and thankfully his hormones were (for once) not dumping his arousal into the air around them. He kept his eyes fixed on his healing hand, flexing the limb. The skin still felt too tight on the bone, still an angry pink, but it was healing.

“Thank you, by the way.”

His healing hand was caught, held gently in Derek’s larger one and he felt his breath still as the Beta brought it up to his lips. The kiss was nothing more than a flash of fleeting warmth, achingly gentle against the oversensitive skin, before he pulled away.

“Anytime, Stiles.”

 _Oh man,_ Stiles thought, dazed, as he watched Derek reclaim his coffee cup and head towards the stairs, declaring a need for a shower, _I’m in trouble, aren’t I?_

“You better have a damn good reason for dragging me out here, McCall.”

The Beta winced, rubbing at the back of his neck. School was abandoned at this hour and Jackson’s words seemed to echo over loudly in the emptiness. He gave the human an awkward half-smile. “I did. I mean, I do, I think.”

“I’m all ears,” the human replied dryly.

Scott shifted nervously, hand dropping. “I wanted to apologize for last night.”

Jackson’s eyes narrowed, grey eyes flinty. “You seem to do that a lot, don't you.”

Scott flushed, "I guess."

“For what part?” The teenager asked and suddenly he was there, his body a hard length as he pressed Scott back against the cold metal of the school bus. “You sorry for kissing me? For being a fucking tease? Or,” Jackson drew closer, tongue darting out and lathing a warm, wet line across Scott's bottom lip, “for leaving?”

“All three?” Scott managed, breathless.

“I can think of a better way for you to say you’re sorry.”

“Y-Yeah?”

Jackson’s lips were a hair’s breadth away from his own, brushing ever so slightly with each word and Scott shuddered at the feel of it. A hand gripped his neck, the move possessive and dominating. “Yeah.”

He moaned as the blond kissed him. There was nothing soft about it. Jackson surged forward, nipping and probing and his tongue was practically down the Beta’s throat. Scott’s arms curled up and around Jackson’s neck, responding the best he could with his limited experience. They were grinding shamelessly against each other, the sloppy sounds of their kiss and moans echoing in the empty parking lot. The hand on his neck squeezed once before joining it’s twin at his hip and Scott let out a gasp as he was lifted, letting his legs wrap around the human’s hips as he found himself being pulled away from the support of the bus.

“Gonna fuck you until you can’t _walk_ , McCall.” Jackson growled and god the threat in the blond’s voice shouldn’t sound so hot. He was carried up the bus steps and slammed down onto the first available seat. The blond’s hands were everywhere, tugging off Scott’s shirt and sliding over the exposed skin. He tried to respond in kind but found his wrists pinned underneath Jackson’s, the human teen leaning all his weight on them to keep him there. Scott whimpered, arching slightly with his limited mobility, and was surprised to find the restraint only turning him on even more, cock a hard bulge in the front of his jeans.

“Fucking look at you,” Jackson breathed as his eyes raked over him and Scott had never felt so sexy, so desirable.

“Jackson.” Scott managed, barely keeping the whimper in. He wanted to touch, to be touched.

The pressure on his wrists lessened, the blond’s expression softening minutely. “I’ve got you, Scottie.”

Warm lips were on his own again, Jackson’s free hand yanking his fly open and diving in. The wolf cried out, hips thrusting up blindly as the older teen gripped him through his boxers. He whined, hips shifting as he desperately sought out more pressure, desperate to get relief. The hand pumped him once before pulling him through the slit of his boxers and Scott moaned so loud he felt like the neighborhood a block over could have heard him.

“Feel good, baby?” Jackson mouthed against his skin, hand pumping him relentlessly. “You’re so hard, so fucking warm.”

“Jax!”

The blond groaned, his hips grinding down hard against Scott’s thigh. His hand was gliding easily, the copious amount of precum the Beta was leaking easing each stroke. “So wet, _Christ,_ Scottie. All for me.”

Scott’s head thrashed to the side actually, literally  _mewing_ as he arched violently, struggling to get his hands free. Jackson grunted, face a mask of surprise as the younger teen’s bucking almost unseated him, before releasing his wrists so he could push him down by the hips. Scott instantly curled around the blond, trying desperately to touch as much as he could, hands entangling first in short locks before scrambling down and inside Jackson’s shirt, fingers digging against the taunt flesh there.

“Damn,” Jackson swore, hands gripping tighter, “gotta be in you.”

Scott nodded frantically in agreement, tugging off the human’s t-shirt as Jackson struggled with his jeans. It was until he’d run his hands down the front of firm pecs that the Beta realized he had claws. He scrambled out from underneath the blond, pressing his hands together as he nearly threw himself into the adjacent seat. He could feel the turn creeping up on him, violent and demanding and impossible to ignore.

“Jackson, get out of here!” He managed to grit out from around sharpened teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to calm himself. He’d never felt so out of control, so angry, so –

“Not this shit again. Make up your fucking mind-”

“Go!”

“Scott, what the-”

“Run!” Scott screamed, claws digging into the seat front in front of him, and his voice more of a growling roar than anything else. Jackson finally seemed to realize he was in danger, face blanching as he scrambled away from him. But it was too late. The wolf could feel the last of his control slip away as if it was a tangible thing and with a snarl he threw himself at the human. Jackson caught him across the jaw with a harsh right hook, taking advantage of the long moment that Scott took as he shook the white dots out of his vision. When it cleared, it revealed that Jackson had made it to the front seat, hand reaching for the door handle. The idea of his prey escaping him was beyond infuriating and the brunet felt himself surge forward, grabbed the blond by the ankle, dropping him hard and Scott could feel was victory as he hovered over the stunned form. He felt his lips twist into a sneer, lips pulling back from his teeth as he lunged and –

– Scott woke with a gasp, pillow shredded in his grip, surrounded by a cloud of feathers and stuffing, his alarm blaring angrily.

The Beta stared at the destroyed pillow before forcing himself up and to his closet, trying to ignore how badly he was shaking. It was a dream, just a dream, nothing more. But Scott couldn't fight the terrible feeling that something horrible had happened and by the time he'd gotten out of the shower he broke down and called Stiles.

His friend answered on the second ring, "Hey, we're not running late are we?"

"Nah," Scott said, clearing his throat awkwardly. "I just had a bad dream."

"Yeah?" He could hear the concern in his friend's voice, "what happened?"

"I had this dream that I...well...that I killed Jackson in a school bus last night. It was really real, like more real than any dream I'd ever had before. I mean, I could  _feel_ his blood, and I..." Scott trailed off, aware of how quiet it had gone on the other side of the line. He had been able to hear the scrape of the Delta's spoon against a ceramic bowl, hear the bustle of Derek doing whatever the hell Derek did in the morning. Now it was utterly silent. "Stiles? What's wrong?"

"Scott," his friend's voice was hesitant, gentle, and he found himself growing even more alarmed at the of a door shutting and locking, "listen-"

"What is it?"

"Listen to me carefully, I don't want you to freak out," there was the sound of car doors opening and shutting, "just wait for us, okay? We're on our way," the loud purr of Derek's camero errupted on the other line, "but Scott, this morning Dad got called out. To the school. There was a body and - and Scott, it was in one of the buses."

The cellphone slid limp from his fingers, landing on the floor with a thud.

A body. At the school.

_Oh god, Jackson._

"Scott? Scott!"

But the Beta was already gone, sprinting across his lawn, phone completely forgotten.

Jackson perched on the wide railing that looped around the gym balcony, watching the woods around them as he finished his red bull. He emptied it, tossing the can at the empty trash bin and smirking as it arched beautifully before landing on target.

Damn, he was good.

This was his favorite place to go when he got to school early. Hardly anyone came out here anymore, between the no exit sign on the door and the general grossness of the debris clogged area. The balcony was mainly used for storage, with basketball hoops and goals lined up and stacked this way and that. It was a good place to sit and think without being bothered. The blond sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at the fuzz on the back of his head as he watched the police move around in the adjacent parking lot.

Someone had killed one of their bus drivers in a really fucked up manner, apparently, and the back lot was closed off and crawling with badges. He watched them scurry about but the teenager didn’t really give a flying fuck what had happened, his thoughts were too preoccupied on a more personal matter. He hadn’t seen or heard from Scott since Saturday night. Chances are he’d managed to scare him off completely and Jackson honestly didn’t know how the fuck he felt about that.

How he felt about all of this nonsense.

Scott had always been something he couldn’t ignore, no matter how hard he tried. Ever since he’d had to get their class' milk ration with the brunet in first grade, Jackson seemed incapable of escaping him. He’d never meant for it to get this far, never meant to act on the attraction he’d felt. But then Scott had to go and be such a fucking _tease_ , with his big puppy eyes and curls and his stupid concern. And his lips.

Those lips, man.

Kissing McCall had been like an unwanted revelation, like every guilty jerk off session come to life and Jackson _could not stop thinking about it._

He didn’t want this, damn’t, he didn’t want to be –

He glanced up in surprised when the balcony door flew open, the heavy metal clattering loudly, and a frantic looking Scott nearly vaulted out of it. The other teen’s head whipped around, eyes panicked, before settling on him. Like a string had been cut, the tension bled from McCall’s frame.

“Oh, thank god,” Scott breathed, running a hand over his face in relief, “you’re okay.”

Jackson felt a frown tug at his lips as he slid from the railing. “Reason I shouldn’t be?”

“You weren’t at your locker and I didn’t see your Porsche and…” The brunet shook his head, giving an unsteady laugh, “it’s nothing. Sorry to bother you.”

He turned to leave but Jackson was faster, catching him by the arm. Eyes the color of espresso blinked up at him, impossibly wide and confused.

“Why would I be hurt, McCall?” The brunet blushed but remained mute. Jackson growled, hand tightening to what he knew would be pain. There were no words to describe how tired of this mysterious bullshit he was getting. “Why would I be hurt?”

“You wouldn’t!” The younger teen snapped, yanking his arm away. “I was just being stupid.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with that ‘shit’ you don’t want me to get involved in, does it?” The blond sneered, watching as the color drained from Scott’s face. He felt worry flare in chest and pushed it away angrily. He didn’t want to be worried. He didn’t want to _care_. But what the hell had McCall gotten himself mixed up in? Scott shook his head again, sputtering out denials, but the kid was literally shit at lying and Jackson grit his teeth. “What kind of trouble are you in?”

_What the hell is going on?_

_Why are you so scared?_

_Is someone hurting you?_

“McCall,” the blond started, his voice a low growl of frustration and anger.

“The bad kind.” It was a breath, an exhale of sound, spoken so softly Jackson almost missed it. When he glanced back at Scott in surprise, the teenager was watching the cops in the parking lot forlornly, guilty.

For a moment Jackson's mind blanched, because how the hell could the dead driver have anything to do with Scott? It better not have anything to do with Scott, because that would mean that McCall was in some seriously deep shit and he was just about to tell him as much, but then those eyes met his once more, looking completely lost and scared. Jackson's grip on him tightened but Scott’s expression hardened, forcibly removing his hands with more strength then he thought McCall capable of.

“So stay the fuck away from me.” The hard expression cracked, _"please."_

And then he was gone, shoulders set as he disappeared back into the gym.

Jackson stared after him, speechless.

“So,” a voice mused from behind him, “I suppose we should have a talk.”

Jackson groaned, fighting the urge to face palm because _of course_ Lydia had seen that. He turned, eyeing the red head wearily as she climbed up the outside stairs that lead up to the balcony. Lydia Martin was a power house of a woman, utterly controlling and demanding, with a will that seemed to have been tempered in the fire of Mount Doom. She was nothing like what Jackson normally went for in a woman, which was probably why they’d stayed together as long as they had. She was also, arguably, his best friend outside of Danny. And while he would never deny that the red head held a spot in his heart, he could live without her flare for dramatics or need for scenes.

“Lydia,” the blond warned, voice icy, because he was so not in the mood. He was horny in a way he hadn’t been in _years_ and completely fucking confused, neither one was something he was used to experiencing for long periods of time.

“Calm down there, tiger, I’m not going to bite.” She said with a snort as she settled against the balcony next to him. “This time. So, you and McCall.”

“Me and McCall nothing.” 

“That didn’t seem like nothing to me.”

Jackson ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Don’t start.”

“I’m not.”

“So what do you wanna hear?” Jackson asked with a sneer, “That I want to fuck him? Fine, I want to fuck him. I don’t see why that’s a problem, it certainly didn’t stop you from riding that starter from Hopewell last week.”

Lydia gave him the same, mocking smile she had every time she understood something that he didn’t. “Please, I’ve known for years that you’ve wanted in Scott’s pants. I think the only one who didn’t know it was _Scott._ That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”

The blond felt his shoulders slump. “I didn’t, I’m wasn't trying to…look,”

Lydia’s eyes softened, a manicured hand coming up to stroke his cheek. “I know, sweetie, but I don’t play second fiddle to anyone.” Her nose wrinkled slightly. “Especially not to Scott McCall.”

“It’s not like that.”

The red head shrugged. “Tell yourself what you want, but I know what I saw.”

“Nothing is going on between us,” Jackson snapped as he pushed her hand away, irritated. “Because McCall is clearly fucking _crazy.”_

“I think he’s confused,” Lydia said diplomatically. “And scared.” A hand rested on his arm. “But that, just now? That was not nothing.” She leaned up, pecking him on the cheek. “Think about it.”

She pulled the heavy door open and paused, looking back at him over her shoulder. In that moment, Lydia looked utterly gorgeous. The sunlight caught the gold strands in her hair until it seemed almost on fire, her lips full and perfectly shaped around a smirk, hazel eyes bright and mischievous.

“Of course, I’ll be breaking up with you.” She gave him a lazy wink. “Publicly and _loudly.”_

And Jackson was left behind, speechless, yet again. The blond stared at the closed door for a long moment before shaking his head. What the hell was wrong with his dick? Why did it insist on choosing such fucking primadonas? First Lydia and now Scott.

Scott, with his frightened eyes and threatening words, who was clearly in something so deep he had no idea how to even begin to crawl his way out of it.

Jackson’s eyes narrowed, hands fisting as he caught sight of Derek Hale and Stiles on the very edge of the back lot. The two were talking heatedly and as he watched, Stilinski gestured to the bus slightly, looking completely distraught.  Hale placed a placating hand on the teen’s shoulder, shaking his head as he spoke.

 _Fuck this_ , the blond thought as he stormed down the back steps and towards the two. This shit had all started when Hale had breezed into town.

Jackson was going to get some answers if it fucking killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you all were wondering what Jackson would do. Apparently it's charging blind into the situation. Did you like the Jackson POV? And Lydia? How about the Sterek?


	13. Pack Mentality, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott just shook his head, eye drifting shut and let the axe tinted smell of Jackson fill his senses. If only for a moment, he wanted this. Wanted the feel of a warm body against his own, the gentle weight of Jackson’s hand in his hair.
> 
> Even if it was selfish, just for now, Scott would allow himself this.
> 
> Just for now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-betaed for now. Enjoy guys!

**January 29th, 2011 - Monday**

“Oh man,” Stiles muttered, bringing a hand up to press against his nose. The smell of blood was everywhere. The police were mostly talking together in groups of three or four, the forensic team having moved in to handle things now that a death had been confirmed. The Delta could smell the body, the stench of death and defecation strong enough to be picked up even from around all the blood. He hoped to fucking god that it wasn’t Jackson. If it was, who knew what Scott would do.

No. Stiles knew. That’s what scared him.

“Did he do this?” Stiles asked, voice so low only another wolf could pick it up. Next to him, Derek was standing completely still, arms crossed and frown etched deeply on his face as he watched the cops.

“It’s hard to tell with all the blood. I can only smell the Alpha. John might know.” The Beta answered, voice just as low. “But it’s a definite possibly.”

“God, I hope it wasn’t Jackson.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You can see the body?” Stiles asked, bringing his hand down as he craned his neck forward to try and see more of the scene.

“No.”

He gave the taller wolf a puzzled look. “Then how-”

“Stilinski.” He turned, feeling the relived smile on his face fade into a more puzzled twist as Jackson Whittemore all but stalked across the lawn. The human teen look furious, grey eyes blazing and frame puffed up.

“Something wrong, Jackson?” Stiles asked, careful to keep his voice light. The tight smile he was rewarded with was downright feral.

“Yeah, you could say that.” The blond stepped close, far too close, his frame looming over Stiles’ despite the fact that it was only a few inches in difference. The wolf held his ground because, let’s face it, he could rip Jackson's head off like it was a pop top if he wanted to.

“You might want to get out of my space there, chief.”

Grey eyes only narrowed, a finger jutting dangerously close to Stiles’ face. “I don’t know what the fuck you’ve gotten yourself involved in and I don’t care, but leave McCall the hell out of it.”

“Seriously? _Seriously?”_ The wolf couldn’t help it, he laughed, lips peeling back from his teeth as he gave the human a feral smile all his own. “This coming from the kid that duck taped him into a bathroom stall last away game. I mean, when did you start giving two shits about Scott?”

Jackson grit his teeth, jaw muscles flaring as his hand shot out and yanked him forward roughly by his shirt front. “Leave. McCall. Out of it.”

A low growl erupted behind him, not yet loud enough for the human to hear but enough of a red flag that Stiles knew he had to put an end to this. His own hand shout up, blunted finger tips digging into skin as he forced Jackson’s hand down and backwards. The blond's lips twitched, visibly taken aback by the strength being displayed.

“Just because you’ve finally decided you want a piece doesn’t mean you have any more right to him then I do,” Stiles spit out, eyes flashing angrily, “Scott is my best friend and if you think I’d ever let anything happen to him, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The fucking gall of Jackson, to sit there and talk to him like he -

“Something wrong, boys?” A sharp voice cut in. Stiles blinked, suddenly aware of just how close to shifting he’d truly been, before glancing over his shoulder at the deputy who hovered by the evidence line, clearly about to step in.

Hunter Bartlett was one of the younger deputies on the force and probably John’s favorite, if the Sheriff was honest about it. At 6’4 and with a heaping frame packed with muscle, the ex-Marine was an intimidating figure. He was a good man, with a wide berth of patience, and had been Stiles’ favorite babysitter as a child. Hunter was glaring absolute death at Jackson, hazel eyes shockingly bright against the dark coffee color of his skin.

“No. Everything’s fine, Hunter. Right Jackson?”

The blond glared at him before pivoting sharply on his heel and storming off. Stiles let out a huff of exasperation before turning around, already ready to dismiss the confrontation. Derek, however, seemed less willing to do so, the Beta’s eyes following the retreating form with distaste. “Well, at least he’s protective. That’s good.”

Derek gave him a dry look.

“Everything alright, Stiles?”

He gave the deputy a smile. “Yeah, just stupid teenage drama shit.”

“Uh huh.” Hunter was clearly not convinced but shrugged it off, turning to give Derek a nod. “Hey, Derek.” Stiles blinked. He hadn’t known the two knew each other, but they clearly did and the two exchanged a firm handshake. “Did you give anymore though to the Sheriff’s offer? We could use the extra man power.”  

“I don’t know," Derek offered with the shrug, ignoring the younger wolf's curious look, “might not be a good idea.” He nodded towards where Wells was standing, glaring at them.

“Don’t worry about him.” Hunter said sharply. Hunter, who had moved upstate from LA years ago, had his own struggles with the prickly human. Besides being an outsider, being from LA and black apparently equated him as a trouble maker to Wells, despite his decorated war record. “Wells has a strong case of small town stupid. Besides I could use a new partner. Me and Kota are a little lonesome by ourselves, aren’t we girl?”

The K9 at his side only looked up at her handler with unmasked adoration, tongue lulling to the side.

Derek nodded. “I’ll think about it.”

“Do that. See you around, kid.”

“Sixteen.” Stiles reminded with an eye roll.

Hunter hummed, looking amused, reaching out and cuffing him gently. “Still a kid.”

“Yeah, yeah.” The Delta whined with a grin, ducking out of the way before starting towards school. Derek fell into step next to him and Stiles wanted to ask. He wanted to ask so _bad._ But he wouldn’t ask, because Stiles knew better to pry and was capable of respecting people's boundaries. But he couldn't help the small glances he kept sending the tall figure next to him.

Derek broke first. “Just ask.”

Stiles shot him a grin, “Dad offered you a job?”

“He did.”

They came to a stop at the school’s side entrance and Stiles fiddled with his backpack strap, debating with the logic of asking his next question before clearing his throat awkwardly. “So, uh, are you going to take it?”

“It depends.”

“Yeah? On what?” Stiles asked faux casually, eyes locked on his scuffed sneakers.

“On if I have something to stay for.”

The teenager’s head snapped up, heart in his throat, but Derek was already making his way back towards the jeep.

There should be a law, Stiles mused, that allowed students to rise up and overthrow if unfairly treated. Because if there was one, Mr. Harris would have been disposed of long ago. It wasn’t Stiles fault that he was here organizing the chemistry store room during his study hall. The Delta had started his period late Monday night and his time left him a mixture of exhausted, uncomfortable and irritable. The first two days were the worst and Stiles really, really couldn’t wait until tomorrow when the worst of the flow and effects would tamper off.

He hadn’t meant to drift off during class, really, but it was hard not to when he was tired all the damn time and had been up half the night with cramps so bad it seemed like something was trying to climb out of his uterus.

It was hard to explain having a period to Scott but some bitter part of him had relished the attempt.

 _“Just imagine,”_ he’d said tersely when the new Beta had been stupid enough to inquire about it, _“that in the space of a day you lose so much blood your gums turn white and ruin your favorite boxers and sheets because – surprise! You were asleep when it started. And you feel like you’ve just eaten more taco bell then legal but with none of the delicious fun and you can’t figure out if you want to shit or puke. Then add a little bit of mind numbing cramps and this really, really fucking lovely ache in your privates that’s similar to being punched in the face. Anymore questions?”_

Scott wisely had none.

So yeah, here he was, bloated out the ass, sorting through ruined text books and arranging them by check out date while Allison fucking _Argent_ – who’d been caught on her phone – was working her way through a box of lab goggles.

Yep.

Perfect.

The silence was so thick you could have cut it with a knife. In his pocket his cellphone buzzed and Stiles paused, setting his handful of books on a stack almost as large as he was before digging it out. Stiles rolled his eyes as he replied to his frantic friend. Sure, Scott’s nervousness around the human girl was probably merited given her family, but the Delta doubted that even a Argent had the balls to do something with Harris grading a door away at his desk.

__   


“That Scott?” Allison asked way too casually.

“Yeah.” And why had he decided to give that little tid bit away?

“So, did he tell you why he decided to ditch me?” Yep, totally should have lied. “Just asking,” the girl set her box down on the table across from him with a resounding slam, “cause I would _love_ to know.”

“Are we seriously going to do this right now?”

“Come on, Stiles.” Allison said, just as snippily, “I think I deserve to know why. If he didn’t want to date me, that’s cool. I mean, he could have handled it a little better, but fine. But why the hell is he treating me like I’ve got the plague?”

He stared at her for a long moment. It was almost unbelievable but - “you seriously have no idea do you?”

“Know what, Stiles? That the first friend I met here – first guy I actually kinda liked – decided seemingly overnight that I’m not worth his time to even properly ditch?” The girl let out a heavy sigh, “look, I know I’m being unfair asking you this, it’s just…what happened? I liked him.”

And that kind of made him feel sad, and perhaps a bit guilty, because maybe there really would have been something between the two of them if Scott hadn’t been bit and her family didn’t spend their outings gutting his kind for her to be this bothered by it still.

“I know he didn’t handle it well, but its Scott. He’s not the best at this stuff. He did like you. He still likes you.” Stiles offered with a shrug, fiddling with his phone case.

“Then what changed?” Allison asked, looking unsure and hurt, “did I offend him or something?”

“It really had nothing to do with you, Allison.”

“Does it have something to do with Jackson?”

The wolf gave her a wearily look, suddenly unsure how to proceed. “Why would you say that?”

Allison snorted. “I’m not blind. Besides, Lydia breaking up with Jackson? Jackson becoming Scott’s shadow?” And yeah, Jackson had become a stalker of the last two days, so that much was true. But the popular jock was so not on anyone’s gay-dar that the Delta had to give the girl props for picking all that up. “Not a hard leap to make.”

“I guess not.”

“What I don’t understand is if Scott’s gay why did he even ask me out?”

Stiles sighed, tucking his phone back into his pocket. “Look, Scott’s going through a lot of stuff right now. At the time I don’t think he’d come that far out of denial yet.”

“He could have at least told me.”

Now it was his turn to snort. “He knew you all of three days, Allison, why the hell would he tell you? He hasn’t even told his mom yet.”

Another silence filled the small space, one less antagonistic then before but just as heavy, as the human girl thought it out. Then, “okay.”

Stiles blinked at the sudden acceptance in her tone. “Seriously? That’s it?”

Allison shrugged. “Being a gay teen is hard, even in California, and I don’t buy into that whole it’s a choice bullshit. I still think Scott was a dick, but I can see how it happened.” Another shrug. “I wasn’t lying when I said I liked Scott. I’m not saying that we’ll be friends right away, because Lydia and Danny are my friends and I owe them that, but I don’t see why things can’t be cool later.”

That, was apparently that, because she went back to sorting, seemingly completely at ease. The entire conversation was a beacon of reason in Stiles rather fucked up and decidedly unreasonably chaotic life.

And damn her to _hell_ , because Stiles did _not_ want to like a baby Argent.

“I’m not fucking Derek. I know what Danny thinks but I’m not.” The words just tumbled from his mouth, unheralded, and Stiles felt his eyes grow the size of dinner plates.

Allison set down the unopened package of goggles in her hand and crossed her arms, brown eyes neutral and un-judgmental yet somehow really intense.

“I’m a virgin.”

Why the hell was he still talking?

But something had softened in Allison’s features. “You don’t have to explain anything to me, Stiles.”

“I know that.” His voice sounded sharp and defensive to his own ears. “Derek’s an old family friend. He’s just staying with us.”

It was a lie, all of it. Why was he downplaying something that was happening? He had nothing to be ashamed of. He liked Derek. He didn’t want Derek to go. He wanted Derek to take the job with his father and stay with them. So why was he sitting here denying it and defending himself to the daughter of the people who would kill him without a second thought?

“Stiles,” Allison said again, gentle almost, “you don’t have to explain anything to me. It's Danny you need to talk to.”

“Danny won’t talk to me!”

And there. That’s what it was. It was Danny again, despite everything that had happened or was going on with Derek, it was still Danny. What was happening with him and Derek, it was on a whole other level then anything that had been between him and Danny. So why couldn't he just let this go? Why couldn't he just let Danny go? He was sure now that he didn't want to date him anymore, so why...? The hurt and betrayed look the goalie had sent him that day by his locker flashed through his mind once more and he let out a deep breath, running a hand up to scrub at his face.

“Stiles,” a soft hand pulled his own away. Allison's eyes were soft, her lips at a slight, understanding slant. “Look, you broke up with Danny, right? A couple of weeks before Derek even came to town. _You_ broke up with _him._ Yeah, Danny’s pissed, but why does it matter to you?”

The Delta felt his shoulders droop. “I didn’t mean for Derek to happen. I didn't mean to hurt anyone.”

“I’m sure you didn’t.”

“Everything just got so crazy after his sister died and…”

“Stiles,” Allison said, voice still kind, “you’re sixteen, you’re not a bad person just because you fell out of like with someone. Danny will get over it. He’s probably just pissed because he thinks he lost at something. Seriously, just give him some space. He'll calm down.”

And oddly hearing that from Allison, who was for all intents and purposes a stranger, helped.

He gave the girl a small smile. “You’re not that bad, Argent.”

Allison laughed. “Thanks, I think. Come on, Harris is going to flip his shit if we don’t get this done.”

The week had been hell on earth but at least it was Friday. He should be in second period with Stiles, but instead Scott was hiding out in a rarely used classroom. School had been hard since the bus driver had died, being surrounded by all these people and not knowing if he was about to snap and hurt them. John hadn’t been able to tell him if he’d been the one to do it, unable to pick out any smells other than the blood and the Alpha. There were no video cameras in the back lot – though there would probably be some soon – and so there was no idea.

But Scott knew.

He had killed that man.

He was a murder.

Scott let out a groan, pressing his hands against his face as he balanced against a desk, utterly despondent. Stiles had assured him again and again that there was no proof it was him, that he hadn’t smelt of blood or had any smeared around his room, but Scott was still sure. And he wasn’t the only one. He hadn’t missed the way Derek stuck even closer to the Delta (if that was even possible) when Scott was around.

As if afraid something would happen.

Suddenly the one thing he hated about his mom’s job was a saving grace; Melissa was rarely home. If she wasn’t home often maybe that meant Scott wouldn’t hurt her. God, if he hurt his mom – what was he going to do? The Beta swallowed hard. Maybe he should leave? Run like John had so he wouldn’t hurt anyone else. But Scott didn’t want to run, didn’t want to leave the only town he’d ever known. He didn’t know the first thing about surviving on his own, he’d always had his mom or the Stilinskis’ support. But maybe if he left the Alpha would follow?

But what if he didn’t? What if the Alpha stayed here and kept hurting people and there was some way that Scott could have stopped it? If anything happened to the pack or anyone because he hadn’t been around to stop it, Scott didn’t know if he could forgive himself.

There was a slow creak as the classroom door was opened and the Beta didn’t even have to turn around to see who it was. By this point Jackson’s scent was as familiar as his own. How could it not be with the human blond practically stalking him? There was the sound of steady footsteps across the linoleum as Jackson came to stand behind him, so close that Scott could feel his body heat. Jackson was a whole other issue of confusion for him. The blond had broken up with Lydia on Monday shortly after they’d talk on the balcony.

“McCall.”

It seemed that Scott’s warning had had the opposite effect it was intended to, if anything Jackson seemed to be staying even closer to him, trying even harder to catch him in a lie or get him to reveal some truth. He was confused by the sudden attention, unsure of where the two of them stood, and completely terrified of making his dream a reality. The wolf could still feel the way his claws had dug into flesh, still feel the warmth of the other teens blood on his hands and between his fingers. Could still feel how…how happy, how fulfilling the act had made felt. His eyes prickled warningly, the slight burn telling.

“Scott.”  

He turned reluctantly to face the taller teen, eyes down cast. It seemed that Jackson would have none of that, however, and a hand titled Scott’s face up. Whatever he saw there made the other teen sigh, the hand following the curve of his jaw to the back of skull, tangling in his hair before tugging him forward. The Beta allowed it, resting his forehead against a leather clad shoulder.

“What the hell am I going to do with you?”

Scott just shook his head, eyes drifting shut and let the axe tinted smell of Jackson fill his senses. If only for a moment, he wanted this. Wanted the feel of a warm body against his own, the gentle weight of Jackson’s hand in his hair.

Even if it was selfish, just for now, Scott would allow himself this.

Just for now.

The door banged open again, breaking the moment and startling the two apart. Derek stood there, leaning heavily against the door frame and breathing hard. Scott hadn't seen the older Beta yet today, taking his bike to school so he could avoid the awkward feeling that came with being near Stiles and Derek; with knowing that Derek was watching him, waiting for him to loose control. The smell of blood and something foul, something so foul it made his nostrils burn, filled the air. He looked terrible, his skin bleached a paper white that made his dark features stand out sharply.

He took a shaking step forward, chest still heaving, before he folded in on himself, hitting the floor with a cringe worthy thud.

"Derek!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like? Didja like Allison? I have plans for Allison and I promise, it won't be a pairing you saw coming.
> 
> Accidentally cut off the ending, where Derek shows up shot. Sorry about that.
> 
> Also in my mind, Bartlett and Kota are the same cop and K9 sent to check out the Hale house in the show. With some tweaking of course.


	14. Pack Mentality, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His heart felt like it was shattering as he reentered the house, bringing a shaking had up to his mouth in humiliation. Had he misread this all somehow? Had he overstepped, ruined this thing between them? Had Stiles just made a total ass of himself?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbetaed.
> 
> Sorry for the wait, hope you guys like it.
> 
> Seriously, the comments? The kudos and bookmarks? You guys are stupid amazing.

**February 2 nd, 2011 - Friday**

Stiles had woken to an empty house.

He had tried not to panic, not to worry, because his father had sent him a text message around two thirty saying that he and Derek may be out late if all went well but it was hard. Hard not to freak right the fuck out, not to leave the house and go searching, when neither his father nor Derek were answering their cellphones. And after last night, Stiles didn’t think anyone could blame him for it.

_The howl woke him from a deep sleep, sending him leaping to his feet from where he’d passed out on his bedroom floor in front of his math book. The Delta instantly careened sideways, sleep heavy legs refusing to handle his weight. He smashed loudly into his bookcase, sending a horde of various figurines tumbling, and fought the raw panic consuming him._

_There was the sound of pounding footsteps in the hallway and then his door was slammed open hard enough it came off its top hinge. A frantic looking Derek rushed in, neon blue eyes fierce and worried as they cased his room before locking on him. Stiles was already moving, pushing off the bookcase hard enough to make it wobble precariously again._

_“Stiles!”_

_“Derek!”_

_They met in the middle of the room, nearly crashing together with the force of it, Derek’s hands gripping painfully tight around the shorter wolf's triceps, Stiles’ own clawed hands gouging narrow holes in the Beta’s t-shirt as they fisted the material in a death grip._

_“Was that?”_

_“The Alpha, yeah.”_

_“Jesus.” Stiles stared at his night-blackened window in apprehension, his body shifting even closer to the bigger wolf. The call was still ringing in his ears, the sheer fury of it filling him with dread. “Is he here?”_

_“No,” Derek’s voice was low and furious even as he reassured him, a hand gliding up the path of his arm, “he’s a few miles off still. It’s safe.”_

_Stiles shivered, leaning into the warm touch. “He sounds pissed.”_

_“He’s hurt.” Derek announced, sounding darkly pleased as he moved away from Stiles and yanked the window open. The night air filled the room, carrying with it the many scents that sometimes drifted over from the industrial sector when there was a strong westerly, and Stiles curled his arms around his frame as he wrinkled his noise against the pungent chemical smell._

_Derek had commandeered his cellphone from where it was charging on his desk and Stiles didn’t even have to wait for the other person to pick up to know who he was calling._

_“John? Yeah, I heard it…he’s fine, we’re at the house….yeah, I think so, too……Not a problem. Ten minutes top.” He hung up, brow furrowing as he immediately began to text someone. “It’s Scott,” Derek revealed without prompting, “he heard it, too. I’m telling him to stay inside and-”_

_“You’re going after it, aren’t you?” Stiles interrupted around bothering his bottom lip. The older wolf’s fingers paused slightly on the phone screen before resuming their frantic typing. He wondered what the best approach to this was going to be, before deciding that there wasn’t one. “I’m going with you.”_

_“No,” Derek answered briskly, tossing the phone onto the bed before leveling Stiles’ with a stern glare, “you’re not.”_

_“Yeah, I am.” He said stubbornly from where he was already toeing on his converses, “you’re off your nut if you think I’m just going to sit here while you and Dad go after a fucking Alpha.”_

_“Stiles-”_

_“Sorry big boy,” Stiles interrupted sharply, “no amount of growling is gonna keep me from going with you.”_

_The look Derek shot him was unimpressed. “This is not up for discussion. You’re staying here.”_

_“Just try and make me.” He shot the older wolf a glare, teeth flashing warningly._

_“You’re on your period.”_

_The Delta froze mid-motion, his hoodie hanging awkwardly off his elbows. “What?”_

_“You reek of blood.” The taller wolf ran a hand through his hair, before gesturing widely towards Stiles’ midsection. “The Alpha’s going to smell that from a mile off. At the very least you’re going to kill all chance of surprise if you go with me now.”_

_Stiles’ felt his shoulders drop in realization, a gaping hole in his chest sending his heart plummeting somewhere around his feet._

_“I have to go.” Derek said with a sigh, “but I can’t if I’m worried about you. Promise me you’ll stay in the house.”_

_“But…” He shook his head despondently, the hoodie slipping partway off his arms, “but what if something happens and I…” Stiles glanced away bitterly, trying and failing to fight the panic that sent his heart racing. Derek was right – bleeding like he was, the Delta would be a flashing neon sign for the enraged Alpha. “Fine. Yes.” He swallowed, hard. “Please, be careful.”_

_“Stiles…”_

_Suddenly he was being pulled forward by the loose fabric of his hoodie, hands gripping his elbows and drawing him close. A stubbly chin brushed first against his forehead and then his cheek. The Delta let out a shaky sigh, eyes shuttering as he leaned eagerly into the touch, tilting his head up and back so he could properly receive the affectionate action. A nose trailed up his cheek before brushing against his own, Derek’s breath a warm brush against his lips._

_Stiles let out a soft sigh, utterly aware that if he was to turn his head ever so slightly – just a touch to the left – that he’d find Derek’s lips. The breath against his face hitched, the grip on his elbows tightening. He wanted to turn and capture them, wanted to open his eyes and watch Derek’s face as he did so – but he was incapable of finding the courage to do so._

_And then Derek was pulling away, leaving Stiles’ face cold and bereft, and the teenager could taste his disappointment and cursed himself a coward. A large hand cupped his chin, shocking Stiles’ eyes open and he felt himself shudder bodily at the look Derek was giving him. The Beta was focused completely on his mouth, pupils blown._

_“I have to go,” he repeated, voice gruff, thumb pressing against his bottom lip, the force of it parting the Delta's lips slightly, “but I’ll be back.”_

_“You better,” Stiles managed weakly, shivering at the feel of his lips moving around the digit, “you promised you’d do my Bronte paper.”_

_Bright blue eyes glanced up, lips slanting in an amused half-smile. “I said I’d help, not write it.”_

_“Same thing." He rasped, claws tearing into his jeans from where he was gripping them, needing something physical to keep himself from latching onto him. It seemed impossible that he was letting this happen, that he was letting his father and Derek go after the Alpha without him. Derek took a step backwards, than another, eyes still locked on the teenager’s face before turning and leaping from the open window._

So Stiles cleaned the house with a single mindedness that bordered on neurotic. It was a distraction tactic and a poor one at that. Perhaps if he hadn’t decided to skip school today or maybe if Scott was here with  him, it would have been easier to dismiss the clawing fear that was tearing at his insides.

He started with the kitchen, before moving on to the living room and den. He gave the lightest of cleaning to his father’s study, nothing more then a dusting and vacuum, before moving on to the downstairs bathroom. By the time he made it upstairs, it was approaching nine in the morning. He cleaned the upstairs bathroom methodically, scrubbing at the shower grout, the itch of anxiety growing under his skin until it was almost unbearable. If he hadn’t heard anything from them in the next half hour, Stiles was calling dispatch to track his father down. Then he was going to get in his jeep and go find Derek.

He shut the bathroom door with a huff, setting the basket of cleaning supplies down with more force than necessary. If he found out that the two of them had just gotten carried away doing god knows what he was going to…to…do something, that’s for sure. It didn’t take much to clean up his room, Stiles had always kept it clean out of habit, and the most he had to do was make his bed and gather his laundry.

In the hallway Stiles paused, eyes drifting over to Derek’s room. He bit his lip in indecision, weight shifting from side to side as he considered the closed door. His laundry pile was small – too small to really justify a load – but surely Derek would have something to add to it. And would the Beta really mind the invasion of privacy if he came home to clean laundry? Mind made up, Stilfe pushed the door open. Derek’s scent hit him like a wall and the wolf couldn’t help the deep inhale he took of it, hands tightening on the plastic basket in his hands until it creaked warningly. It struck him once more, how terribly he wanted Derek to be alright. How much he wanted the older wolf back home, safe.

Stiles forced his feet forward, smirking slightly at the sight of an unmade bed and clothing strewn across the floor. He snorted as he made his way across the bedroom, not once unbending from the waist, picking up dirty sock after shirt after jeans (and a single boxer, that Stiles tried his damnest to ignore less he feel like a total pervert). Seriously, was it so hard to use a hamper? Wait, did the guest room even have a hamper? The teen made a mental note to pick one up before turning to the bed. He set the now full basket down, pulling the pillows off the bed so he could properly make it. He yanked the sheet and the duvet up, plopping the pillows back on top and paused as a shot of mustard yellow creaped out from the mouth of the beige and green pillow case.

Stiles tugged the fabric free, eyebrows shooting up as he held up his Wolverine t-shirt. It was patterned with the mutant’s uniform, a gift Scott had given him a year ago for his birthday that had sent Stiles into a hysterical fit for almost a half hour at the irony of it all.

What was it doing in Derek’s bed?

A thought made Stiles flush, ears burning even as a pleasurable shiver trailed down his spine, but the t-shirt was free from anything damning that could have indicated such a thing and the teenager felt guilty at his own thoughts. Curious, he brought the shirt up to his nose. It was dirty, which made sense as Stiles had worn it last when he’d gone running with Scott, and he could smell his potent scent still firmly attached at the collar and arm pits.

Realization struck him quite suddenly and the wolf’s hand shot out, wrenching the pillow it had been tucked in up to his nose. Derek’s scent struck him first but it was overlaid with his own and for a long moment the Delta just greedily breathed their mixed scents, heart warm and fuzzy and racing.

“Oh…”

A scent reminder.

Every night, Derek had been falling asleep to Stiles’ scent. He was half hard in his pants at the thought. Of what that it could mean. On impulse Stiles rubbed the shirt up and under his chin, reinforcing his scent in the fabric before shoving it back into the pillow case. He nearly fled the room, shutting the door before leaning against it. The teenager was blushing, quivering, a hand pressed to his mouth and utterly giddy.

A scent reminder.

“Derek...”

In his pocket his phone erupted loudly, starting him out of his thoughts and Stiles dropped the laundry basket in surprise before ripping the seam of his pocket as he tore the cell out. His shoulders drooped in disappointment as ‘Batman’ flashed across the screen.

Scott.

“If this is about why I’m not in school, I can explain.”

“Stiles!” The sheer panic in Scott's voice stopped him cold. “Stiles, its Derek,” the Delta’s heart stilled, “he’s hurt – oh God, keep him still, Jackson.”

The teen was practically flying down the stairs, slamming his feet into his Vans before pulling the key rack and a chunk of plaster off the wall with it as he yanked his keys free. “Where are you? How bad is it?”

“At school. He’s been shot, it smells – it smells…No, Derek! Don’t move!”

“I’m on my way.” Stiles said, trying to keep his voice level even as panic roared inside him. “Get him outside.”

“Y-Yeah. Hurry, Stiles.”

The jeep screeched as he floored it out of the driveway.

“Dad, I don’t know where the hell you are or why you’re not picking up but if you’re hurt I am going to _kill you.”_ Stiles growled into the receiver as he negotiated the jeep through the back roads in the hopes he wouldn’t be pulled over for the insane speed he was driving at. “I’m taking Derek to Deaton’s, I’ve left a message with dispatch as well, so _call me._ Or better yet meet me there.”

As he neared the school he could see Jackson’s Porsche parked in the adjacent Circle K. Stiles pulled in, nearly vaulting from the jeep at the sight of a wobbly Derek leaning against the sleek car. Scott was nearly pressed against his side, an arm wrapped around the older Beta for support. He crossed the parking lot in a few quick strides, his jeep dinging as he fled it with the door open and the keys still in the ignition.

He reached out, cupping the older wolf’s face in concern. “Jesus, Derek.”

Derek was pale, white practically against the coloring of his clothing, dark lashes standing out pronouncedly even over the dark, angry half-moon bruises under his eyes. His scent was putrid; his normally heady smell replaced with that of rotting meat and sick. And above it all was a dry, peppery smell that Stiles had only smelled a hand full of times but could never forget.

Wolfsbane.

_Hunters._

“Okay,” he took a deep breath, forcing himself to find his calm as he brushed his thumbs over Derek’s sallow cheeks comfortingly, “it’s going to be alright.”

“Stiles…” Hands gripped his own in a weak grasp, the Beta’s lips twisting in a pained grin. “I don’t know what was in it, I’ve got to get it out.”

“Alright.” The teenager said grimly, mind already whirling, “let’s get you to Deaton’s.”

“Not funny, Stiles!” Scott barked, eyes wide, obviously thinking that his friend was making some sort of off collar werewolf joke.

“Not meant to be.” The Delta responded as he navigated a groaning Derek into the passenger seat. “Go back to school, Scott.”

Scott sputtered. “What?”

“Go back to school,” Stiles repeated as he pulled the driver’s door shut. “I’ll call you when I can.”

“No way,” Scott snapped, hands gripping the side of the jeep, eyes flashing amber underneath their brown. “He's really hurt, I’m not going to...to _abandon_ him!”

Stiles snorted. “Don’t be dramatic, dude.”

“Go back to school,” Derek ordered firmly, “Stiles missing is going to be suspicious enough, but if you both aren’t there they’ll know you’re ditching.”

Scott looked thunderous.

The older Beta shot him a fond look, “Go. I’ll be fine, puppy.”

Stiles didn’t wait for a response, the pungent smell of Derek’s wound reinforcing the need to hurry and backed the jeep away. He glanced in the rear view mirror once and it revealed Scott's form, prone and stressed, watching them go forlornly. Stiles felt a surge of guilt, second guessing his decision to leave Scott on his own, but Jackson was already crossing the gap between them, face etched in concern.

_He’ll be alright. But…Derek…_

“What the hell happened?”

“Hunters.”

“No shit,” Stiles growled, taking a turn a little too sharply, “but how? Were they after the Alpha as well? And where the hell is Dad?”

Next to him, Derek jerked. “What do you mean, you haven’t heard from him?”

The steering wheel groaned under Stiles’ tightened grip. “Not since a text he sent me at two thirty.”

“We never met up at the Alpha,” Derek said softly.

Oh God.

Oh _God._

What if…what if…Dad was -

A cool hand pressed against his neck, “I’m sure he’s fine. If something had happened the station would have sent someone down.”

“Yeah,” he managed around a thick tongue, “you’re right.” He glanced over at the Beta, “elevate your arm, keep the wound up. Smells like wolfsbane.”

“I think it is.” Derek agreed. “But I’ve never been poisoned with it before.”

“Deaton will know for sure.”

“I’m surprised he’s still here.” Derek said after obediently raising his arm up. “I figured he would have moved out after what happened, I mean because-” Derek stopped awkwardly.

“Because there’s no Alpha.” Stiles finished, refusing to be ashamed of his pack’s status. “He’s not our Emissary, but he’s our general physician.”

“Stiles, I didn’t mean-”

“I know.”

“Stiles-”

“Keep your arm up.”

Deaton was waiting for them outside the Clinic when they pulled up. Stiles had no idea how he knew, but the veterinarian met them with a smile as he ushered them inside, carefully holding the mountain ash partition open.

“Hello, Derek.” Deaton greeted genially as he lead the Beta into his back room. “It’s good to see you again, though I wish it could have been under better circumstances.”

“Same here, Doc.” Derek managed around a groan, wincing as the Druid pried the leather jacket off him. Stiles winced along with him, hands wringing together as he watched the Emissary poke and prod at the wound. “Is it wolfsbane?”

“Undoubtedly,” Deaton affirmed with a low hum, “a variant found often in northern France.”

“You can tell that all from sight?” Stiles asked, impressed.

“No,” the Druid said with a small smile, “it’s the same type of bullet I dug out of your father’s shoulder this morning.”

Stiles’ legs gave out, sending him smashing loudly against the stainless steel cabinet behind him. “W-What?”

“He’s alright, Stiles.” Deaton reassured quickly, guiding the shell shocked Delta to a nearby chair. “He’s sleeping it off in my back room.” The Emissary open a side door to reveal a whole and healthy looking John Stilinski completely crashed on a fold out army cot. The teenager started to stand, intent of reassuring himself, but Deaton pushed him back down as he shut the door. “We should let him rest, John's taken a day of sick leave so he's not being missed. He’ll wake up when his body’s ready.”

Stiles nodded, mouth dry.

The Emissary pulled out a wooden box, fingers counting down each cork stopper before stopping and pulling a glass bottle out. He held it up, shaking the mostly empty container before carefully portioning a small amount out.  

“Now, Derek,” the smell of butane filled the air as he lit a lighter, “this is going to hurt, I’m afraid.”

Try as Stiles might, there was no way he could go to sleep that night. He stood in the darkness of his room, staring out his window, arms wrapped tightly around himself. After Deaton’s all three werewolves had gone home. Both Betas’ were exhausted though Derek seemed to be in better shape than his father, which Stiles attributed to his younger age (though he would never say so out loud). While John had retired early after a large meal of left overs, Derek had lasted longer, staying up until Stiles had gone to his bedroom.

Their stories mirrored each other. Each had been shot in by an Argent, Kate (Allison’s newly arrived aunt, apparently) for Derek and Chris for his father, as they had been attempting to meet up and hunt down the Alpha. John had managed to hide his wound from his fellow officers, calling in a sick day for the following morning, claiming he’d eaten some very bad sushi for dinner. He’d been shot in the shoulder, the closeness of the wound to his heart causing him to dip into fever faster than Derek, which was why he’d never called Stiles to let him know what was happening. Derek, under the confusion of the poison, had lost his phone while fleeing and had apparently passed out somewhere in the industrial sector, woken hours later by the sound of the morning shift change. He'd gone straight to the school to find Stiles.

Both had made it to Deaton’s, both had been healed and fixed up. Both were now tucked in, warm and safe, at home. Even Scott was curled up on the pull out bed from under Stiles' bed, the Beta’s face slack with sleep and sticky with drool. The pack was safe, but…Stiles’ arms tightened around himself.

He’d almost lost them both today.

The Delta squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to take deep, calming breathes to keep his heartbeat steady. Scott was sleeping like the dead; the sleep of someone who hadn’t felt safe enough to do so before and the last thing that he wanted was to rob that of the worried wolf. But it was hard, so hard, when all Stiles wanted to do was scream and rip Allison’s family apart with his bare hands.

Allison, who'd he had the guile to like enough to have a heart to heart with.

Jesus, what was wrong with him? How could he have forgotten, even for a minute, what Allison was?

Wasn’t it enough that the Alpha was trying to destroy them? Now they had to have a whole family of hunters stalking them, too? How was Stiles supposed to keep everyone safe? His stomach was in knots, his hands shaking as he brought them up to rub at his eyes. He really needed to try and sleep. He hadn’t managed it much last night and it was already quite late. He turned, reaching down to pull off his fuzzy socks before climbing into bed. A muted creak stalled his motions and Stiles frowned, listening hard to the sounds of his house.

There was another creak _(the middle stair)_ and then another _(bottom landing)_ and Stiles was pulling the door open and moving silently into the hallway. There was the rustle of clothing and leather from the kitchen, the catch of the back door lock pulling free.

“Going somewhere?”

Derek froze, form framed by the garage light. “Go back to bed.”

“Not a chance, buddy.” Stiles growled out, stepping out on the porch behind him. “We’re the hell do you think you’re going?"

“Stiles.”

Glowing eyes snapped to glare at him, face stern and twisted and a part of Stiles wanted to shrink away from him in deference. But a greater part wanted Derek back in the fucking house.

“I have to do this, Stiles.”

“Do what, Derek?” He asked sharply, “have to go off and get yourself killed?” He nodded towards the bag and crowbar in Derek’s hand. “Don’t even pretend that this is about the Alpha.”

“The Argents are too dangerous, _Kate_ is too dangerous.”

“Agreed.” Stiles said, feeling his own eyes burn crystal blue, “but running off half-cocked and alone is going to do nothing but get you killed.” He shook his head in disgust. “I thought you were smarter than this; wolves hunt in packs for a reason.”

“I don’t want you involved in this.”

Stiles felt himself go cold. “Because I’m a Delta.”

“Because you’re  _sixteen."_  Derek snapped back, lips curling up. “You’re a child.”

“Please, I’m a fucking Clark Kent.”

“You have no training, no experience–”

“How the hell am I supposed to get any experience if I’m never allowed to hunt?”

“Stiles–”

“You’re being stupid, Derek.” The younger wolf said with a snort, arms crossing. “I’m coming with you.”

“I want–”

“Don’t care what you want,” he interrupted flippantly, “let me get my shoes.”

“God _damn’t_ , _”_ Derek snarled and suddenly he was being yanked forward, claws digging into his arms as he was shaken roughly. “I want you _safe,_ Stiles!” The Delta stared up at him, eyes wide and startled into complete stillness. The grip on him gentled. “Don’t you – can’t you understand that? She – the Argents have taken everything from me, I’m not going to let them take you too.”

For a moment the two of them just stared at each other and then Stiles looked away, unable to take the emotion on the normally stoic wolf's face.

“You don’t get to do that.” Stiles said bitterly. “You don’t get to do that, you _don’t.”_

“Stiles?”

“You don’t get to just barge in and hijack my life, make yourself the center of it, and not let me try to protect that. When you didn’t come home, when Scott told me you’d been shot all I could think of was how we’d never –” Stiles shook his head harshly before glaring back up at him. “How is that even fair, Derek? Don’t you see how much…how much I…”

The older wolf was staring at him, looking completely stunned, as if Stiles had pulled the rug out from underneath him and the sight of such earnest surprise threw him, his courage deserting him all at once.

“Never mind,” Stiles muttered, stepping out of Derek’s arms. “Do what you want. I’m…I’m just really tired, I need to sleep.”

His heart felt like it was shattering as he reentered the house, bringing a shaking had up to his mouth in humiliation. Had he misread this all somehow? Had he overstepped, ruined this thing between them? Had Stiles just made a total ass of himself? The teenager had only made it a few feet into the entryway when arms were pulling him backwards, a solid body enveloping him as Derek curled around his smaller form. Stiles shuddered, leaning back into the warmth of the other wolf.

“You’re right.” A face nuzzled against the column of his neck, lips resting there. It wasn't a kiss, just the barest of pressure and moisture as the Beta spoke against the skin. “I won’t try to go out alone again.”

Stiles let out a shaky breath, eyes closing as he gripped Derek's forearms tightly. “I thought you knew this by now. I’m always right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason this chapter was hard for me to write, so I will shamelessly admit that I need reassurance. Did the Sterek go down alright? Deaton? The injury?


	15. Family Ties, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles’ line of thought completely derailed; the worrisome image of Derek all alone in a big house replaced almost instantly by one of the two of them there, the house restored and beautiful, the Delta’s belly full and swollen with Derek’s pup. Stiles swallowed, pushing the image away, trying to ignore the excited jump in his pulse. Surely that wasn’t how the older wolf meant that statement to be taken. But how was he supposed to take something like that? Derek wasn’t an Alpha, there was only one way he could fill a house that size.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out! Work has been a beast and I have little time to write.

**February 3 rd, 2011 - Saturday**

Saturday was a bright day, the sun high in the sky, but the late winter air was cool at a fifty and the bruising wind made it seem more like forty; chilly enough that even as a wolf Stiles had nicked Derek’s heavy NYU hoodie. The Delta shifted so his hands were tucked in the pocket, his body keeping the appendages warm.

They’d spent the day walking about the Hale grounds, Stiles trailing quietly behind the Beta as Derek walked around each structure, evaluating it with a critical eye as he scribbled notes down on a hand-sized notebook. It turned out that the Hale property was actually more of a compound, the buildings spaced out along a long road that twined through the some sixty-eight acres it was located on. At the pack’s height some forty years ago the compound had held almost thirty wolves.

There were three houses not counting the main house, as well as two one bedroom cottages, and a studio above an abandoned stable. There was also two barns, a henhouse, a small mill along the wide part of Ridge River, and a set of beehives that were still inhabited tucked in a dying orchard. All the buildings were in various stages of neglect, but none of them were anywhere near the state of ruin as the main house.

It looked like something out of the Addam’s family or the Munster’s, honestly, and it had never failed to give Stiles the shivers even before he knew an entire pack had roasted in its belly. Stiles stared up at the burned out shell, trying not to let the fact that he now knew the names of the eight poor wolves who’d perished freak him out too badly, before sighing determinedly and following Derek towards the entryway.

It turns out that while the Hales – Derek – still owned the property, there was a bylaw in Beacon Hills that stated that if property had a condemned or abandoned house on it for longer than eight years it was absorbed by the county. Apparently Derek had a friend back in New York that was willing to come out and take a look at the properties, draw up some plans for free. The idea was that Derek would walk around, choose the house with the least problems and hire some contractors out asap so he could re-file a residency claim and get his property off the list.

Stiles didn’t like it.

And more than just because the idea of Derek living anywhere other than at the Stilinski house made his heart sink. He didn’t like the idea of Derek living alone. And he didn’t like the idea of coming here, of exposing Derek to all of this again. It couldn’t be easy, walking around houses that used to be filled with your pack.

The older wolf had been startling composed about the whole thing but now, as Stiles took a few hesitant steps into the entryway of Derek’s childhood home, surrounded by burnt timber and the smell of decay, Stiles could see just how hard this whole thing was. Derek stood completely still in the center of what could have once been a den, face distant as he ran his hand over a heat cracked and blackened desk.

Stiles bit his bottom lip, unsure of how to proceed. He took another step forward, almost wincing when the wood creaked under his weight. “Are you…going to fix this place up? It would be a lot of work. But, uh, it could be done.”  

 _Lame_ , Stiles berated with a wince, _lame, lame._

“No.” Derek’s voice was low. “No. I’m going to tear it down.”

“Oh. Yeah, I can understand that.” He couldn’t imagine living in the same place his entire family died either. He and his father had fled an entire _state_ after Claudia had died. He came to stand next to Derek, hands curling in the hoodie pocket against both the chill and the awkwardness. Stiles’ eyes swept over the burnt wood, troubled, and tried to ignore the _hurtangergriefguilt_ that had tainted Derek’s normal deep scent. “Do you have an idea which one you’re going to get worked on? The cottages were nice, with the view of the river and all.”

“Eventually I want them all repaired.” He mused, “you liked the cottages the best?”

“They’d be the easiest to fix,” Stiles answered with a shrug, turning so that he was leaning with his hip against the desk edge, facing Derek. “But my favorite one was the brick one with the wrap around. The one you said your Uncle Tristan lived in?”

It was a beautiful house; a colonial with two floors and a finished basement. It had a long, wide porch that wrapped around it, providing a stunning winter view of a large vegetable and herb garden and an even nicer view of the river as it flowed by. Like almost all of the houses on the property, it had been built when the Hales had first arrived here in the late 1800s. Unlike the other houses it had been updated, with a wide open floor plan on the bottom and basement floors and six gorgeous bedrooms scattered throughout the house.

Tristan, apparently, had very good taste.

The Beta quirked a small grin, “you really did like that one, didn’t you?”

“Are you serious? Like doesn’t cover it. I’d live in it hobo style if I thought Dad would let me get away with it.” Stiles had fallen in _love_ with the house the moment he’d seen it. But the roof had several holes in it and the water damage inside was epic. It would cost a shit load and a lot of time to repair it to its former glory. “But it needs a lot of work, so the cottages are probably the better choice.”

Derek said nothing for a long moment, head tilted slightly to the side as he watched the Delta in front of him before shrugging. “I think I’ll go with that one.”

Stiles started slightly, eyes widening with barely concealed excitement. “You sure, man? Needs a lot of TLC, don’t chose it just cause I like it.” Derek's face was a tinge incredulous as he let out a snort of amusement and now it was the teenager’s turn to cock his head. “What? What’d I miss?”

“Nothing,” Derek said smoothly, lips still turned up in that disbelieving smile, “nothing, Stiles. I’ll let Jason know.”

“Are you sure? That’s a hell of a project.”

“Money’s not an issue if that’s what you’re thinking.” Derek said with a shrug as he fiddled with his phone and Stiles filed that particular bit of information away for another time. Not that it mattered – cause it didn’t, not even remotely – but just how much was Laura and Derek worth?

“I’m not. It’s just,” he brought a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, “it’s a big place for just you. Won’t you be lonely?”

He shrugged as he slipped the phone back into his jacket pocket. “I plan on filling it soon enough.”

Stiles’ line of thought completely derailed; the worrisome image of Derek all alone in a big house replaced almost instantly by one of the two of them there, the house restored and beautiful, the Delta’s belly full and swollen with Derek’s pup. Stiles swallowed, pushing the image away, trying to ignore the excited jump in his pulse. Surely that wasn’t how the older wolf meant that statement to be taken. But how was he supposed to take something like that? Derek wasn’t an Alpha, there was only one way he could fill a house that size.

Derek was staring at him, mouth still curved, looking completely amused and apparently waiting for some sort of response.

 “Yeah?” Stiles looked away, aware of the hungry flush that had erupted all over him, making him feel both far too hot underneath all his layers and naked despite them to the Beta’s gaze. He swallowed again, fiddling with a loose string at the end of the hoodie sleeve for the lack of something to do with them. “The white picket fence, 2.5 kids, all that jazz?”

He let out a thoughtful hum. “I need a mate for that.”

Stiles’ fingers froze on the string, heart a frantic tattoo against his chest. “Got someone in mind?”

The teenager shivered as long fingers hooked into his belt loops, a gentle tug pulling him forward until the small space that had been between them was all but gone. “What do you think, Stiles?”

He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the slight shake of his hands as he reached out and grasped the edge of Derek’s jacket, knuckles resting against the warmth of the Derek’s abs. This thing between them was impossible to ignore; the tension growing thicker, more insistent with each passing day. It was something that needed to be addressed, that needed to be verbally defined before they were lost to the all controlling urge to breed of Stiles’ heat and Derek’s resulting rut.

But now that the moment had come…he knew that he wanted this. It was just that five weeks ago he was dating Danny, alone in his race save for his father, living his life without ever knowing Derek Hale even existed. And now…now it was almost scary how much Stiles wanted that pretty house filled with pretty little babies that had Derek’s eyes and Stiles’ moles. It was scary how easy it was for him to accept that, to want that, when he’d struggled with the feminine aspects of his sexuality for years.

He wanted more time, more distance to process all this. Because even while the thought of being separated from Derek made Stiles’ stomach turn, he was afraid of how quickly everything moving. And even though Stiles knew that was the nature of werewolf mating, it still threw him.

“Stiles,” Derek’s voice was cautious, carefully neutral, as he caressed the younger wolf’s cheek with his fingers, “this…we don’t have rush.”

The teenager sighed, leaning into the touch, feeling a surge of renewed affection for the wolf in front of him. “I wish that was true.” Derek frowned, ready to object, but Stiles just shook his head and gave him a weak smile. “My heat will start in less than two weeks.”

The effect his words on the older wolf was instantaneous. Brilliant blue swirled deep from the depths of Derek’s irises as the green bled away completely. The grip on his hip tightened from a gentle hold to a bruising one as the hand on his cheek slid down to his throat, clawed fingertips cradling the back of his head. Every inch of the Beta’s posture screamed of a deep, visceral possessiveness.

“That’s soon.” Derek’s voice was strained and the teen watched the harsh dip of his Adam’s apple. “I can leave town.”

“Even if the Alpha’s still here?” Derek’s grip tightened, his upper lip curling to reveal a thin line of white. Stiles let out a soft, huff of a laugh. They both knew Derek wouldn’t leave if there was even a chance that the Delta could be claimed by the Alpha. “That’s what I thought.”

“I-” the older wolf began apologetically but the sound of an approaching car stalled his apology. Both wolves turned to stare at the outer wall wearily.

“Expecting anyone?”

“No,” Derek said tightly. “It’s the Argents, I recognize the engine hitch.”

“Damn’t,” Stiles cursed, tugging the other wolf towards the nearest window, “come on, let’s get out of here.” But Derek barely budged, glaring at the front of the house. “Derek! Come on!”

“No,” the Beta growled out, eyes flashing angrily. “This is my territory.”

The car shut off, doors clanging loudly.

Stiles let out a growl, tugging him more violently. “This is not the time to go Alpha male, man!”

Footsteps drew nearer – at least three humans walking lightly. There was the sound of rowdy voices, hard and smug, as they looked at the remains of the house.

“You go.” Derek said suddenly, hands roughly pushing him towards the window. “I’m not letting her drive me from my house again.”

A low whistle, _“Can’t believe this shit hole is still standing. Why the hell haven’t they torn it down yet?”_

_“It’s still private property.”_

He bared his teeth angrily at the other wolf, feeling the shift sweep across his features. “You think I’m going to leave you to them? You stay, I stay.”

They were on the front porch, the warped wood creaking ominously.

_“You seriously think he’s in there, Kate?”_

Derek’s face was drawn tight, lips a thin line of white as he stared down at Stiles' determined face.

 _“Oh he’s in there.”_ There was a harsh laugh. _“Derek’s nothing if not predictable.”_

The teenager’s heart beat furiously as his body flooded with adrenalin, prepping for either fight or flight, and he tried one last, desperate attempt to get him out of the house. “Do this for me, _please.”_

For a long moment Derek simply stared at him as the Delta begged pleadingly with his eyes for him to see reason. After everything they had just been talking about – after what that had all meant – if the Beta didn’t listen to him on this…Stiles just didn’t know.

But then Derek let out a silent snarl before all but pushing him through the broken window and shimming out after him. They were near silent as they sprinted into the nearby wood line but they only made it a few paces in, just far enough to be hidden by scraggly bushes and thickets, when a woman’s voice – a low, powerful tone – halted the older wolf in his tracks.

“I know you’re out there, Derek!” The Beta swirled around, practically pivoting on a dime, growling loudly. A tall blonde woman was standing on the porch – Kate Argent, Stiles assumed – staring into the woods mockingly as she rested a shotgun on her hip. “What’s wrong, _Dare-bear?_ Not in the mood for a reunion, baby doll? Go ahead, run, just like six years ago you coward.”

Derek let out a violent snarl and unbelievably took a step back towards the wood line, features completely shifted, eyes blazing angrily. Stiles latched onto him again, claws digging into skin, face inches from the other wolf’s as he glared up at him, “don’t you even dare.”

The other Hunters who were with her, the two males, had made their way out of the house and Stiles tensed, eyeing them wearily as they raised what looked like a t-shirt launcher. The hell? Next to him Derek cursed, grabbing Stiles roughly by the arm before finally, _finally,_ fleeing deeper into the woods. There was the sound of a woosh, of something whizzing through the air, before the world exploded into noise.

The teenager stumbled but kept running, hands pressed against his ears in a vain attempt to keep the horrible piercing screech away. The sound was ever present though, echoing through Stiles’ very being, making him feel off balanced and nauseated as he stumbled into tree after bush after tree in his flight.

Kate’s laughter, cold and haunting, audible even over the angry noise, followed after them.

They ran until the sound died out, miles and miles into the woods, chests heaving when they finally came to a stop. Stiles leaned heavily against a tree trunk, fingers pressed into the soft skin just under and behind his ears as if the pressure could ward off the ringing ache.

“What was it you were just saying to Scott?” Stiles asked, voice tight. “Best thing to do with Hunters is to run, right? No show downs, especially if there is more than one. Boy, that sounds like good, solid advice.”

 “Stiles-”

“How did you know it was an Argent?” The younger wolf demanded, hands fisted angrily at his side.

 “I said I recognized the car.”

“You recognized the car, or you recognized Kate Argent’s heart beat?”

Derek looked away, but not fast enough to hide the flash of surprise and Stiles felt a surge of irritation, because, really, did Derek think him stupid? The older wolf’s reaction to Kate Argent’s presence had been odd and emotional from the moment she’d come to Beacon Hills. Did he really think Stiles wouldn’t have noticed?

“You have been preaching avoidance, being careful, being _smart,_ from the moment you came here. Kate Argent’s been in town for _two days_ and you have completely lost your shit. Sneaking out the house alone and just now? You could have gotten us killed!”

He received a withering glare for that, “I told you to leave.”

“That’s not how this works, Derek!” The teenager snapped. Who the hell did Derek think he was if he thought that Stiles would leave a friend – much less a potential mate –  alone to face off against a trio of Hunters? “And Dare-bear? Baby doll?” Stiles shook his head, running a hand up over his scalp, “what the hell is going on between the two of you?”

“Stiles-”

“God help me, Derek, if you say nothing you’ll be choosing paint colors by yourself.”

He stiffened, back ramrod straight before turning away from the Delta.

“I met Kate when I was sixteen.” Derek’s voice was completely flat, “She worked at the same grocery store that I did. She was in her twenties. I didn’t trust her at first, but she seemed so different from her family. She fought with them all the time, always came to work crying and talking about how much she and her parents didn’t get along. One day she came to work beat up, told me her dad had done it. She told me she wanted to run away to LA. We’d been working together for two years and she never tried anything. Just joked around a lot, she was really funny. I thought – I told her I would protect her. That I’d help her leave.”

“Jesus, Derek.”

He wanted to stop it, stop the flow of words because he could already see where this was going and he didn’t want to hear it. Didn’t want to know because – selfishly – it hurt too much to think of what this must have done to Derek.

“She kissed me in dairy stock room and I thought I was in love.” Derek’s voice was harsh, unforgiving. “I was stupid. I told her things about my family. About our schedule, how we did things. One Saturday, after we’d been dating for almost six months, she waited until Laura and I were at work in town and came onto the property. She knew how to get past the alarms because I’d told her how.” The Beta let out a hard laugh. “We used to fuck at night in one of the empty cottages and I didn’t want to get caught, so I taught her how to get around the perimeter alarms.”

My family was in basement, it used to be a game room and Saturday was Family Game Night. They locked them in there and set the house on fire. I didn’t have a car yet so Laura had to wait an extra hour after work for me to get off and drive us home. When we did get there it was too late. We found my mom dragging my Uncle Peter out. She,” Derek’s voice cracked, “she was so _black_ , completely – completely burnt but she was our Alpha and she was still trying to – to get him _out_ and –”

The Beta’s voice finally failed him, the words trailing off into a heavy silence. Stiles stared at him, a hand pressed against his mouth in horror. His eyes stung with the weight of his tears, his throat swollen and aching. Derek’s entire body was line of tension, his face still turned away from him.

“My Uncle lived, if you call being in a vegetative state living.”

“Derek, I…” But he was at a loss. What did you say to someone who unintentionally got his entire family killed?

The older wolf glanced over at him and something in his expression seemed to break, face twisting before he turned away again. The silence between them grew even heavier, tenser, and when Derek spoke again his voice was a low, pained sound. “I should have told you this before.” 

The Delta felt his brows furrow in confusion. “Before?”

Stiles inhaled sharply with the realization, the implications of what Derek was thinking hitting him like a brick wall.

Before. Before, when they’d first met. Before, when they’d first talked about the Argents. Before whatever it was between them had developed. Before, long before, they’d gotten to a point that they were discussing houses and heats and ruts. As if knowing this would somehow change his mind, make Stiles want him any less.

The teenager was moving before he really knew what he was doing, grabbing Derek’s t-shirt and yanking him roughly to him. Of all the ways Stiles had imagined their first kiss, it had been never like this. In his mind it was always a slow, gentle thing; a tender acknowledgement of what was between them. Just like everything else had been so far.

Instead it was a frantic push of lips, a desperate reaffirmation of feeling and reassurance. Stiles stood on the balls of his feet, hands locked onto the older wolf's front in a death grip. For a moment – an agonizing, horrifyingly long moment – Derek was completely unresponsive, body stiff and unyielding against his lips. And then he seemed to melt into Stiles.

Strong arms wrapped him, arms so long they seemed like they could wrap around him twice, holding him so tightly it was as if Derek was trying to fuse them together. But even still Stiles slid his arms around his body, fingers pressing against the leather of Derek’s back, trying to pin them even closer.

Derek’s tongue dipped against his lips and Stiles couldn’t have stopped the long, almost pained whimper that escaped him if he tried. God he wanted this for so fucking long. He opened to the muscle immediately, his own darting out to steal a taste of Derek. He tasted like the coffee he’d been drinking in the car, tinted with citrus from the gum he’d been chewing earlier. They met again and again, only parting to readjust angles and frantic holds.

Stiles’ kisses with Danny had been fantastic, he would even dare to say that their first kiss had been perfect. They had been hot and sweaty, emotions high off a recent win as they kissed under the school bleachers. But this…he hadn’t even begun to imagine that a kiss could feel anything like this. The reaction between their bodies was electric, something deep and primal and perfect. It was as if everything in Stiles’ life had been leading to this moment; to the moment when he could be pressed up against Derek's warmth, his taste, his scent.

Eventually though Derek pulled away, pressing one last kiss on the quivering teen’s lips before resting his forehead against Stiles’. They breathed each other’s air for a long moment, Derek’s hands warm weights on the Delta’s hips. “I thought…you’d be…”

“That’s because you’re stupid.” Stiles huffed. “Did you really think I could blame you?”

“You’re face-”

“Was undoubtedly contorted in utter fucking _horror_ at what you just told me. But that doesn’t mean I blamed you for what happened.”

Derek looked away, face dark. “I got my family killed, Stiles. Kate would have never made it so far if I hadn’t shown her.”

Stiles sighed, because that wasn’t untrue. “Kate was how old when you dated?”

“Twenty-eight.”

“So fucking skeevy. Derek, you were eighteen. She used you.” Stiles could just see it; a young, naïve Derek, blind with infatuation and conviction, puffed up by the thought that his enemy had fallen in love with him, filled with purpose at the need to protect her from both their families. Their love would have been epic, a Shakespearean event had it been true. “She ran a two and half year op on you _._ That’s dedication, that’s…that’s fucking psychotic. Hunters usually kill clean and simple to stay out of the lime light and off local radars. And you said some of your family was human?”

There was a rough swallow. “Yeah. My aunt and uncle. My baby cousin.”

“How could you ever imagine she’d do that? I mean, who thinks of something like that? And I get it – I do. Kate should pay for what she’s done. But if you…it’d be war and…” Stiles’ fingers stuttered from where they’d been tracing a soothing pattern over the Beta’s chest, unsure of how to continue.

The last thing he wanted to do was keep Kate from getting what she deserved, but if Derek killed her the Argents would undoubtedly retaliate. And that was assuming that Derek was successful. There was no telling if that would be so, with the way the older wolf was flying off the handle over the last few days. And with the Alpha still loose, it was all far too easy for anyone to get killed.

And with Stiles heat coming…if Derek joined him the chances that he was going to come out pupped was high. And while as a Delta he was made to carry, miscarriages were still high and births perilous (his own mother’s death had shown the truth of that) and Stiles would be vulnerable and exposed, confined by the limitations of carrying. If there was going to be a baby, Stiles needed to know that he’d have his mate to rely on. That Derek wasn’t going to be taking excess risks, wasn’t going to run off and get himself killed.  

Even if it meant letting Kate go.

But the young wolf had no idea how to express this; at a loss and feeling every bit his age, Stiles’ pulled the older wolf’s hand until it was pressed over the flat expanse of his belly. There was a sharp inhale of his name and Stiles bit his bottom lips nervously, suddenly completely intimidated, before slowly meeting Derek’s eyes.

But Derek’s face was tender and the teenager shivered as fingertips pressed against his stomach in a gentle, possessive hold. “I understand. No risks." Derek's voice was a low rasp. "I want this, Stiles. Two weeks?"

“Yeah.” Stiles croaked.

Two weeks.

In two weeks he would be…

Mated.

Married.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, sliding his own hand over top the Beta’s, and gave Derek a small smile. “I want this too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the chapter where Derek and Stiles become 'official.' What do you think?
> 
> Fixed a miss type with Derek's age. For those wondering, Derek is 23. This makes him roughly seven years older than Stiles. Derek first met Kate when he was 16 and she was 26. They dated when he was 18 (and legally allowed to) and she was 28.
> 
> As someone in their mid twenties, I don't recommend dating teens. Then again, I don't have a mythical/biological mating bond driving me towards awesome males to reproduce. Age matters less and less as you get older - though 10 years is a lot - but I think it matters a hell of a lot from like 23 down. Again, fiction allows for some leway here, as in this fandom age gaps (within reason, say 10 as an cap) and early marriages are common since most tend to mate up young with either other wolves or humans.
> 
> Think of it as similar to other subcultures that still follow older practices of people marrying only a few years after puberty.


	16. Family Ties, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The building was a long term care facility, the only one in Beacon Hills, and Stiles stared at it curiously as he climbed out of the Camaro. He followed a silent and brooding Derek inside, giving the stern looking red head at the reception desk a wan smile before heading deeper into the complex. A feeling of uncertainty, of dread, had settled in his stomach as they made their way through a nautical themed ward into a garden themed one. They passed room after room before finally stopping at one towards the end of the hallway.
> 
> The plate outside the room read ‘Peter Hale.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Extra long chapter for you guys, to show my undying love and appreciation. I chose to do this instead of sleeping before my third. Wonder if I'll regret that in a few hours.
> 
> Also. Smut. Smut, smut, smuuuuuuuuut.

**February 4 th, 2011 – Sunday**

They were stretched out on Stiles bed, the Delta typing fervently away to Scott with Derek a warm line against his hips, the Beta on his side as he watched some history show on Stiles’ TV. An arm was thrown over his waist, rather close to his groin, but it seemed the promise of a shared heat had killed some of the tension between them and it was a platonic position.

Scott made a face. Stiles rolled his eyes, leaning further back into Derek before typing a reply. They were messaging rather than voice chatting for the sake of privacy, though they had the video on but the audio muted. Scott looked terrified, clawed hands unweaving the lacing of his hoodie string methodically.

He sent the screen a wicked grin, dragging his tongue suggestively over his bottom lips. Scott flicked him off.

A sharp jab to his ribs stopped him mid-smoochy face. Derek was watching him, brows furrowed from where he was resting his head on his palm. “Don’t be an ass.”

“Spoil sport,” the teenager grumbled.

On the other side of the screen, Scott nodded nervously.

Stiles sniggered as he closed his lap top and set it down, scooting it across the carpet. “We’re chaperoning Scott on his date with Jackson so he doesn’t eat his face.” He announced with a lazy yawn, stretching both hands over his head.

“Are we now.”

“Well,” he corrected with a slight blush, “I am. We’re just going to watch movies. You don’t have to join us if you don’t want, I think you use the TV up here more than I ever do.”

The teen bent down, pulling his phone from where it was lying next to his foot. He pulled up Jackson’s number, debating for a moment before sending a short text.

There was a sigh from behind him as a large body settled against his frame, wide hands resting just on the juts of his hips. The Delta stretched into the touch, letting his head fall back against Derek’s shoulder. A soft kiss was pressed against his pulse point. “You’re meddling.”

“Not meddling, _helping.”_ Stiles amended as he titled his head to the side, giving the wandering mouth more access to his skin. The kiss traveled down the vulnerable column, leaving a trail of heat in its wake that seemed to echo the one inside the teen. Stiles shifted, pressing back against Derek and the grip on him tightened, fingers stretching to their full length so they sat in the hollows of his hips. The mouth on his neck bit down and he arched slightly, letting out a breathy sound, legs spreading until they were pressed against Derek’s thighs. The hands slid down slightly, stroking the sensitive skin, just shy of his rapidly forming erection.

Stiles whimpered, body shifting as he strained to open himself up more, bring those hands even lower. A tongue worried the spot the Beta had nipped, Derek’s fingers pressing like hot brands into his skin, thumbs brushing just slightly against the swollen flesh trapped by his jeans. “Derek…”

There was a sharp inhale from behind him and then the older wolf was pulling away. “Two weeks, Stiles.”

“But-”

“Unless you’d like to talk to your father now.” Stiles fell deathly quiet. “We need to talk to John at some point, Stiles.”

“Yeah, I know. Just…not right now, okay. I need a few days to…the fuck I know. Do we have to talk to him?”

“Stiles.”

“Fine. Fine. God.” The Delta stood, hopping slightly on one leg as he readjusted his woody so it slid down a pants leg and was less obvious. “Come on. Drive me to the supermarket.”

“The supermarket?”

“Yeah. Even without being a wolf, Jackson eats a shit ton. And I need lots of sugar. Lots and lots and _lots_ of sugar.”

“Great,” Derek said dryly as he followed the teenager into the hallway, “just what you need. More energy.”

“Man, not gonna lie, I'm like the energizer bunny on _crack.”_

“Fantastic.”

The ride to the grocery only took a few minutes and Stiles immediately stocking up on chips and dip, soda (and beer for Derek and his father) and loads upon loads of candy. The Delta always craved sugar and salty food in the weeks building up to his heat, packing on up to ten pounds that he would lose in the violent spasms and burning fever of his heat.

Derek followed him at a sedate pace, eyebrow raising only once (at the truthfully obscene amount of twizzlers he piled into the cart) before forking over a purple Coutts & Co. World Card, a credit card Stiles hadn’t even ever heard of but made the cashier’s eyes go wide. They loaded the groceries – and a bouquet of flowers, oddly – into the trunk, Stiles already popping handfuls of Skittles as he climbed in.

The Beta watched him in amusement as he killed off a pack and opened another. “Gearing up for heats make me hungry,” he muttered, slightly embarrassed. Derek nodded, a small smile on his face, as he pulled out of the parking lot.

“What time are Scott and Jackson coming over?”

“Seven thirty, why?”

Derek was quiet for a moment before switching his turn signals from left to right. “I have some place I want to take you.”

The building was a long term care facility, the only one in Beacon Hills, and Stiles stared at it curiously as he climbed out of the Camaro. He followed a silent and brooding Derek inside, giving the stern looking red head at the reception desk a wan smile before heading deeper into the complex. A feeling of uncertainty, of dread, had settled in his stomach as they made their way through a nautical themed ward into a garden themed one. They passed room after room before finally stopping at one towards the end of the hallway.

The plate outside the room read ‘Peter Hale.’

Stiles took a deep breath, steeling himself, and stepped inside. It was clear now, who the flowers were for, and he watched as Derek pulled a wilting bundle from a vase and tossed them, replacing them with the fresh daffodils and daisies. Peter Hale sat unmoving and seemingly unseeing in his wheelchair, positioned in the middle of the room so the poor man couldn’t even look out the window.

If he could see, that is.      

The eldest Hale was burnt terribly down all the right side of his body, the healed burn scars raised and angry, and Stiles swallowed hard against a lump in his throat. Derek moved closer, straightening the blanket over the unmoving Beta’s lap with the movements of one unsure of what to do. Stiles pulled a spare chair forward and sat down, equally uncertain of how to act.

“Hey, Mr. Hale. My name is Stiles and I’m…uh…”

“Pack,” Derek finished, voice soft as he sat on the empty bed. “This is my mate, Peter.” He gave a wry grin, “guess you were right about me liking them young.”

“Derek!” Stiles sputtered, checks red. “You can’t just say shit like that! I mean, stuff. Totally meant to say stuff.”

The dark haired Beta smiled ruefully, “you wouldn’t have to worry about cussing in front of Peter. He was always pretty laid back. He was, I dunno, the cool Uncle, I guess. He was a lot younger than Tristan or my mom, so he spent most of his time with me and my sister.”

“Yeah?” Stiles asked, encouragingly, “like how? And hey – wait a minute. What do you mean, ‘you like them young?’”

“It’s a long story.”

“Really. Indulge me.”

Derek gave an awkward laugh, “Well the joke started when I was six and…”

The next hour was filled with stories about younger girls (well, mostly girls, there had been a visiting pack whose eight year old Beta son had fallen hard for a fourteen year old Derek, much to his horror) trying desperately to date the mysterious, charismatic, rich, Derek Hale and an opportunistic Peter Hale who seemingly never missed a moment to exploit and embarrass his favorite (and only) nephew.

The Delta was in utter stitches as Derek sheepishly told him about the time an eighth grader had snuck into the back of Laura’s car, thinking it was his, and tried to surprise him, naked, only to be greeted by a furiously horrified older sister, when his cellphone trilled angrily next to him.

_Where r u? – Batman_

Stiles groaned, bringing a hand up to smack his forehead as he shot out a text for his friend to just let himself in. “Scott’s already at the house and – shit, look at the time. Jackson’s gonna be there any minute.” Derek nodded, standing and casting one last, longing look at the still wolf. The teenager shifted, unsure, before making a decision. If he was going to be Derek’s mate, he should act like it. “I want to come back, though.” The older wolf glanced up at him in surprise. “Come visit with you, talk again. Maybe…I dunno, maybe it will help him, if he knows his…his pack is here.”

“I’d like that,” Derek said softly. Stiles gave him a smile, leaning into the embrace as the bigger wolf pulled him close, pressing a chaste kiss against his lips, “I’d like that a lot.”

They said their goodbyes, the Delta hovering over Peter’s form, making sure the blanket was pulled tight enough before leaning and pressing a slight nuzzle across the injured wolf’s chin. The gesture was just shy of a bit much, but Stiles really, really felt for the poor man. He couldn’t imagine watching your pregnant wife and child burn alive and then survive only to be trapped like this. And he’d been so alone for so long, with neither Laura or Derek here to visit him.

But then he froze, pulling away in confusion.

For a moment…for a moment he’d thought he’d felt…it had felt like…like Peter had _sniffed_  him.

But Peter was still and unmoving, eyes glazed and vacant and the teenager shook it off as either his imagination or some involuntary reflex on the older wolf’s part. Stiles gave Peter one last smile before folding his hand inside a larger one.

The drive home was silent, Stiles caught in quiet contemplation of what he’d just seen. Derek seemed just as willing to keep the silence and Stiles only broke it when the Beta missed their turn.

“Hey, that was us.”

Derek shrugged, a small smile on his face. “Thought we’d take the long way.”

Stiles smirked as he ripped open a bag of licorice, the maudlin moment gone. “Now who's meddling.”

Jackson looked like a model on the front porch, in dark washed jeans and a heather grey long sleeve. The sleeves were rolled up, despite the chill of the air, and Scott found his eyes naturally drawn to the lacrosse captain’s thick forearms. Scott swallowed, cursing Stiles’ cravings and stepped aside to allow him in.

The blond glanced around the empty house, head tilted to the side. “No Stilinski?”

“He and Derek went out for candy.” Scott explained hastily, “they’ll be back in just a minute.”

_I hope._

Jackson gave him a half smile, kicking off his kicks casually as he settled on the couch as if he owned it, tossing two DVDs onto the table. Scott wandered over despite his skittishness, picking them up with interest. The first one was _Insidious,_ which Stiles had already seen. The second one was _The Orphanage,_ a Spanish horror flick that Scott had been wanting to see for some time but was never carried in any of the movie stores or on demand. He glanced over at the blond in surprise.

“I really wanted to see both of these.”

Jackson threw him a smug smile, “I know.”

The wolf swallowed and spent an inordinate amount of time setting up the movie, choosing _Insidious_  to be watched first. When he got it to the menu he paused, unsure.

“You gonna just stand there or come sit down?”

Wincing in disbelief at the situation, Scott forced himself to sit down, placing his body as far from the other teen as possible. Sadly, given the small length of the couch (and the fact that both arm chairs were firmly scent marked as John’s and Derek’s respectively and he didn’t dare to sit in them, even now) wasn’t very far.

“They should be back any minute.” Jackson gave him a weird look, eyebrows raised, before returning to watch the menu screen. Silenced stretched between them and eventually Scott just started the movie, the creepy sounds of the menu on loop only making things worse. Besides, if the movie was playing Jackson couldn’t demand answers, could he? When the blond looked at him questionably he gave the teen a strained smile, “Stiles’ already seen it, don’t think he’d mind if we started.”

The movie began, the ear wrenching sounds making him wince. A long arm settled on the couch back behind him, fingertips resting just slightly against Scott’s neck. Despite what the brunet had thought, the touch calmed him immensely and he found himself leaning back into it. The movie played, the tale of the doomed Lambert family unfolding on the screen. By the time the family had moved into their second house, finally growing aware that something was not quite right with perhaps not the homes but themselves, Scott had fully relaxed into the gentle hold. Jackson’s fingers tips were rubbing tiny circles against his skin and the Beta couldn’t help letting his eyes drift half massed in pleasure.

Blunt fingernails scratched at his neck, causing a shiver of pleasure to drip down his spine and Scott let out a soft sigh as they moved up his scalp; almost arching into the touch like a dog. The motion earned him a chuckle.

“You’re like an oversized puppy.”

Scott sent the human a glare, pouting at the fact that Jackson had somehow picked up on the dreaded ‘p’ word without ever hearing either Stiles or Derek (or John, damn't) use it. There was a loud clash from the TV followed by an aborted shriek and Scott jumped at it, eyes wide as his pulse leaped.

Jackson laughed, lips quirked. “Dork.”

“Shut up,” the brunet mumbled, embarrassed, sending him another glare – only to be caught by the (dare he think it) gentle expression on the acerbic human’s face. The smile, genuine and without any of the smug or malice that usually tinted it, seemed to light up the handsome boy’s face. Scott drank up the expression, letting his eyes drag over the contours of Jackson’s face; the tilt of his lips, the soft crinkles around his eyes.

“Like what you see, McCall?”

“Maybe,” he answered honestly, trying to ignore the way his cheeks burned, “is this…is this a date?”

And there, the old smile was back. “Maybe.”

They were close, far closer than Scott had realized, almost sharing the same air. Grey eyes dropped to his lips and Scott parted them almost involuntary. The smile slid from the blond’s face, the fingers on his neck urging Scott forward ever so slightly. “Jax, I…”

Lips pressed against his own, a gentle touch of skin against skin, a brush of warmth, so unlike the kisses they’d shared before. Scott let out a soft sound, letting Jackson guide them closer as the kiss grew deeper, lips parting to allow a probing tongue inside. The older teen explored his mouth, licking deeply but gently, swirling and stroking against his own tongue. A hand slid around his waist, pulling him closer, sliding up under his shirt and splaying wide over his lower back.

There was no pull, no urge to shift just…just _Scott,_  being kissed.

He relaxed into it completely, one hand clutching at Jackson’s shirt while the other gripping a muscled forearm. He pressed forward, shifting the angle of the kiss and slid his own tongue into the blond’s mouth. Jackson tasted like…like Jackson, oddly, and the brunet whimpered slightly, pressing even closer still as the hand on his neck slid down inside his shirt. The hand on his waist tugged and Scott went with it, letting Jackson tilt them backwards until he was pressed against the couch, both hands wrapped tightly around the human’s neck as his weight settled over him.

And then he heard it.

Every muscled tensed, body quivering as he pulled away from Jackson. The blond blinked down at him in hazy confusion. “What-”

 _“Sh.”_ Scott hissed, slipping from the couch and crouching. He made a gesture for Jackson to stay put, moving silently through the house. He made his way to the kitchen, peaking around the corner to the back door.

It was open.

And the hallway was filled with a scent Scott could only just recognize.

But he recognized it.

The Alpha.

He was here.

Scott flew back into the living room, grabbing Jackson bodily and making a break for the front door. A loud, vicious growl followed by a crash from the kitchen sent him back peddling rapidly in the other direction. The wolf looked around desperately before dragging a loudly complaining Jackson towards the back door. But even as he ran he could hear the giant form crashing towards it from other room.

“Oh, fucking Christ!”

“What the hell is that? What’s going on? Scott-”

“Shut up!” The brunet snapped, yanking open the closet door and shoving Jackson roughly inside. “You need to stay in here. Don't come out, no matter what you hear!”

“Scott-”

“Just do it, Jackson. I can’t do this if I have to protect you!” Scott snarled, feeling the shift crawl over his skin. He slammed the door shut, swirling around, claws at the ready. Even having faced it once, nothing could have prepared him for the sight of the Alpha werewolf.

It was…it was _huge_. Its head brushing against the ceiling despite the fact that it was hunched, frame heaving with each breath it took, arms so long they hung around its knees. The wolf was definitely a male; a thick, uncircumcised penis hung between its legs. Long strings of drool slid from its muzzle, its lips pulled back to show sharp, angry teeth.

Fear, thick and unwieldy, filled him but Scott steeled himself. Because he knew, somehow in a way that was impossible to, a way without words, that the Alpha wanted to kill Jackson. He grabbed a nearby chair, tossing it with every inch of his strength at the Alpha before throwing himself after it with a snarl.

The Alpha batted it away and caught him like a rag doll around the neck, discarding him easily before taking loud steps towards the closet; his weight causing the wood floor beneath the carpet to creak. Scott picked himself up immediately, throwing himself forward once again with an angry growl, latching on with teeth and claws to a furred arm. The Alpha snarled, ripping him away and Scott let out a cry as he was held up by his hair until with a great, violent spark of pain the Beta fell to his knees, a huge tuft of his hair in the Alpha’s grip.

A boney finger pointed at him and Scott howled, curling in on himself as his heartbeat tripled, his body seemingly rebelling against him. He found himself flat on his back, chest heaving as every muscle trembled with the strain of trying to move, yet he couldn’t.

Everything inside of him, every inch of his body was screaming for him to _submit_ – and Scott was.

There was a shout from in front of him and Scott let out a cry of denial as Jackson leapt from the closet, swinging a baseball bat with  enough force that it cracked in half when it made contact with the Alpha’s head. For a moment an eerie silence fell upon the room; Jackson was staring at broken bat with wide eyes and Scott tried to _will_ the human to run, his voice seemingly frozen in his throat. Worse yet, the Beta could feel a rage growing in his chest – a fury that screamed at him to tear the other teen’s throat out for daring to lay a hand against his sire. Scott squeezed his eyes shut, trying to silence the infuriated growls tumbling from his chest.

A clawed finger ran against his cheek and when the brunet opened his eyes, the Alpha was inches from his face, red eyes glowing like demonic embers. Scott felt his body move, gathering itself in a low crouch, head turning slowly to stare at the human, lips pulling back in a snarl.

_No, oh no. No. No, I won’t!_

Every inch of his body ached, every muscle tense and braced as he fought against himself. The Alpha growled and the urge grew even stronger. Scott screamed, biting his tongue hard enough to split it in two.

_I won’t. I won’t. I won’t. I-_

“- won’t!” Scott snarled, throwing himself backwards with enough force that he shattered the coffee table.

The sound the Alpha made was utterly inhuman, eyes blazing as he back handed Scott, sending his body tumbling before leaping forward. Jackson’s scream was ear wrenching, the human’s body jerking before going completely still, hanging from where the Alpha had latched onto his shoulder.

Somehow Scott managed to get to his feet, stumbling towards the two of them. “Let him go!”

There was the sound of screeching tires out front and then pounding feet on the driveway. The Alpha snarled, head snapping towards the door, before dropping Jackson and bounding out the back. Scott nearly flew to the unmoving blond, hands pressing against the bloody gash. Jackson was still, grey eyes blank and sightless as they stared at the ceiling.

Derek swept into the room like a whirlwind, bypassing the two of them completely before shooting out the back door, Stiles at his heels. Scott barely noticed, eyes wide and tearful as he tried desperately to get Jackson to say something.

“Jackson! Oh god, you’re – you’re gonna be okay.” He pressed a kiss to unresponsive lips, nuzzling repeatedly against the human’s chin. “Say something, please!” But the blond remained silent, lifeless and pale. In the background the sounds of _Insidious_  played on. Scott whimpered as blood seeped through his clenched fingers, “oh, no. No, no, no! Stiles, _Stiles!”_

“The change is taking him too quickly,” Deaton said with a sigh, placing his stethoscope back into his bag, “his fever is too high.”

From where he was kneeling next to the blond, Scott gave a low whimper. Stiles sat heavily on his bed, bringing a hand up to wipe his mouth. “I don’t understand,” Stiles said quietly, “is he rejecting the bite or not?”

“It is more complicated than that, I’m afraid.” The Emissary said as he stood. “You are aware that Jackson is adopted, correct?” Stiles jerked in surprise, but Scott only nodded. “Very little is known about his parents outside of the fact that they died when he was just a baby. I believe somewhere in his line there was a wolf.”

Stiles hissed sharply, leaning back. It wasn’t uncommon for werewolves who mated with humans to produce human offspring. Hell, it wasn’t even uncommon for two mated _werewolves_ to produce a human child if they both weren’t purebred by several generations. It was uncommon, however, for such a child to be unclaimed. For them to not have any extended family at all – no pack – to come and claim them. Had Jackson actually been a wolf – had he ever transformed at random as infants and toddlers were often liked to do- with his parents, their entire race could have been exposed.

Even rarer was it for them to react like this to the change; for their deluded blood to react so violently to a bite. Rare, uncommon, but apparently not unheard of by Deaton’s own word.

“The change is sweeping through his body too strongly, too swiftly. At the accelerated rate, it is simply cooking his insides.”

“But…but he’ll live? Right? _Right?”_ Scott asked desperately, standing wobbly. At Deaton’s silence, the wolf lunged forward, hands gripping the Emissary’s jacket front roughly. “He’s going to live, isn’t he, Deaton?”

“Scott!” Stiles snarled, leaping off his bed even as he heard Derek move towards stairs from where he was guarding the bottom floor. But Deaton simply took the disturbed Beta by the wrists, peeling them back as if the wolf’s strength meant nothing.

“If his body is strong enough, than yes, he will survive.” The dark skinned man face was gentle as he released the teen, “only time will tell. We must wait.”

Scott let out a whimper, collapsing next to the still blond, face buried in his arms, voice a pained murmur. “Why didn’t you just listen for once?”

Stiles shut his bedroom door, heart aching at the sight of his distraught friend’s prone form. Deaton was waiting in the hall, face maddeningly neutral with only the slightest hint of sympathy. He leaned against the hallway wall, rubbing a hand against his face wearily.

“Be honest. What are his chances, Doc?”

The Emissary sighed. “It is always difficult to tell with these cases; they are so rare that I’ve only read about them. It depends on how far down the line the wolf blood is. If it was a grandparent – or Gods willing – a parent, his chances are decent. But any further and the curse will most likely burn him out from the inside. Regardless, I have done all that I can.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said darkly, “yeah, okay. Guess you’re going to head home then?”

“Not home.” Deaton corrected as he zipped up his jacket. “Your father’s requested my presence on the hunt tonight and I’ve already given my word. I’ll return in the morning.”

Stiles nodded, following the Emissary down. “Tell Dad…” the teen faded off, at a loss, as he opened the front door before settling on, “just tell him.”

Deaton nodded, giving him a tight smile before heading towards his car. Stiles managed to shut the back door with no small amount of brute force, deciding it was pointless to try and lock the battered thing, before making his way into the living room.

Derek was already there, sitting in his arm chair, face contemplative as he studied his clasped hands. The older wolf glanced up when Stiles entered, reaching out to the Delta as he approached. Stiles let himself be pulled into the Beta’s lap with little objection, curling around Derek like an oversized kitten. He nuzzled into the familiar scent, pressing his face into the crook Derek’s neck. The arms around him held him tightly, a soft kiss pressed against the side of his forehead.

“He was in our home,” he managed, a shiver of revulsion running violently through him. The arms around him tightened even further. _“Our_ _home.”_

“I’m going to kill him.” Derek said casually, voice level with conviction. Stiles just nodded, burrowing in even closer as hand rested reassuringly on his nape.

“Jackson’s going to die, isn’t he?”

“He…might.”

The Delta whimpered, eyes squeezing harshly against the sting of tears. “What are we going to _do?”_

Derek didn’t answer, only held him closer.

Scott woke to the feeling of being watched and a horrible cramp in his neck. He’d fallen asleep next to the trundle bed, the familiar scent of its mattress mixed with Stiles and his own smell greeted him. It took his fuzzy mind a moment to remember why he was at Stiles.

And then all at once he did.

The wolf shoot up, eyes wide, the blond’s name a shout on his lips.

“Fuck,” a strained voice hissed, “not so loud, dipshit!”

Jackson was sitting up in bed, looking utterly annoyed – pissed even – but completely healed.

He’d survived the change.

Scott nearly threw himself at the other teen, landing splayed across his lap, arms wrapped tight around his neck.

“You’re alive! Oh god, Jax!” The brunet let out a choked sound, hugging the unresponsive teen tighter, “I thought you were dying.”

“Scott,” Jackson said sharply, physically pulling him back enough to glare at him. “I have the worst hang over of my life and my last memory is of something trying to eat me. Now, _what the hell is going on?”_

Scott swallowed, shifting so he was sitting next to the blond again instead of atop him. “This is going to sound crazy-“

“- a giant man-wolf just tried to _eat_ me, little man. I think you’re fine.” Jackson interrupted dryly.

“Yeah,” the brunet agreed softly, swallowing around a thick knot in his throat.  “Okay, it’s like this…” It took a half hour to tell the whole story and when Scott finished his voice was horse and Jackson was staring at him. “…and…and now we’re at Stiles. I guess.”

“You’re right. That is crazy.”

“You have to believe me! You’re a werewolf and-” A sharp slap to the back of his head silenced him abruptly.

“Don’t interrupt. It’s crazy, but I believe it.”

Scott sank into himself in relief. “Oh.” He swallowed. “You almost died, Jackson. I almost got you killed and now you’re – why the hell didn’t you just stay in the closet? Damn't, Jackson!”

He shrugged, leaning back onto the bed. Strong arms pulled Scott down with him, so that his chest was flush against Jackson’s, while his waist and legs remained awkwardly on the ground.  “I couldn’t just let you get eaten,” the new Beta announced casually, his breath hot and soothing against Scott’s ear, “who would I pick on then?”

Scott let out a shuddery breath, leaning further against the muscled chest, enjoying the warmth of the very much alive body. He let the older teen pull him fully onto the trundle, shifting so they were pressed completely length wise, with Jackson's muscled form against his back, limbs completely entangled.

Jackson was _alive._

“You almost died.” He whispered, blinking harshly against the urge to cry.

“But I didn’t.”

“You almost _died.”_ Scott repeated, pressing back against Jackson. The arms tightened around him in response and the blond let out a deep sigh. When Scott glanced up at him, he found grey eyes watching him, amused.

“You’re not going to stop saying that are you?”

“But-un!” A mouth on the back of his neck silenced him, paired with the smooth roll of Jackson’s hips against him. “W-What are you doing?”

“Reminding myself I’m alive.” Another rock, this time coupled with hands rucking up his t-shirt, one sliding up to stroke at the skin of his neck.

“Wait! Jax, s-stop!”

A hand slipped under his sleep pants and boxers, squeezing his hardening cock. “I don’t think you want me to.”

Scott groaned, nails digging into the wrist stroking him. “N-No, _oh.”_

Jackson was pumping him fully now, his hard cock grinding against Scott’s ass. A sharp canter of his hips, an off angled thrust, caused the blond’s cock to strike him head on, the head prodding his covered hole. The brunet Beta couldn’t have stopped the long, weighty moan that escaped him if he tried and Jackson growled – growled for the very first time – and ground in even harder. Scott’s hips began to stutter back to greet each thrust, head snapping back into the cradle between Jackson’s neck and shoulder. The hand that had been wrapped there slid down to worry his nipples, the mouth at his neck biting and sucking the tender flesh.

“Shit, Scottie. You smell so fucking good.”

“Jax,” the younger wolf gasped, eyes fluttering as the hand on his dick gave a particularly squeezing twist, dragging his foreskin up and over the sensitive head.

“You smell like sex, Christ,” Jackson gave a harder thrust, “just like sex. How the hell – _god_ – you smell perfect.”

Scott gave a loud whine, cocking his head to the side to expose more of his neck. Behind him, Jackson went completely still and then suddenly Scott found himself on his back, the new Beta hovering over him. Jackson’s entire face was fierce, intent, as he stared down at him. A clawed hand yanked harshly at the borrowed sleep pants, ripping both them and his boxers clear from his body. 

Both wolves blinked in surprise, Jackson staring at the fabric in his hands blankly while the smaller brunet erupted into a fit of giggles. “Super strength, you’ll get used to it.”

The older teen’s expression darkened at his amusement, tossing the torn fabric over his shoulder. Scott yipped in surprised, body arching as the blond pressed a sharp bite against his shoulder blade. A calloused hand pressed harshly against his mouth.

“Your fucking noises are testing me, McCall.” Jackson’s voice was gravelly, rougher than he’d ever heard it before, as he laved harsh bites and kisses against his neck. Scott whimpered, leg’s spreading as the blond settled between them and gasped loudly at the feel of bare skin against his own. When Jackson had stripped, he had no idea, but the position put them in the most intimate of contact. He could never have imagined the hot perfection of another cock dragging against his own, the wet feel of someone else's precum sliding down his own shaft. A forceful mouth claimed his own, swallowing the sounds escaping him, as they rolled against each other.

Scott curled his arms around the blond’s neck, clinging on for dear life as a brutal tongue fucked his mouth. A hand was pressed roughly around his throat, squeezing possessively, just hard enough to make Scott feel light headed. Never, in the entirety of his life did he ever think he’d be one for rough play, for being man-handled. But the way Jackson seemingly owned his body, the way he seemed to want every inch of Scott, wanted it badly enough to just _take_  it, set every inch of Scott on fire. The blond Beta pulled away and Scott shamelessly chased after his mouth, tongue curling. The sound the other teen made was almost pained as Scott lapped desperately at his mouth, tongue dragging over his lips and chin.

Jackson’s lips pulling back in a snarl and Scott surged forward, gripping hard with his hands for balance, licking hungrily at the exposed teeth. He didn’t understand the move, couldn’t even begin to understand why it made him even harder, precum dripping liberally from his slit, coating them both. It seemed to have just as extreme a reaction on Jackson. The blond’s eyes blazed a brilliant blue, mouth attacking his own hard enough to draw blood. A hand yanked both his wrists up above his head violently, the hand around his neck a heavy but somehow unthreatening weight as it pushed him down.

Their lips separated with a loud pop, a string of saliva straining to maintain contact as Jackson settled on his heels, pupils blown until only a ring of glowing blue could be seen. His face was intense and wanton as he stared down and Scott felt utterly exposed, stretched out and defenseless to his probing gaze. Jackson’s cock was a hot brand against his hip, just a shy shorter than his own but easily twice as thick, drooling a small puddle in the grove of Scott’s hip. Its cut head was swollen and plumped to a deep cherry purple, slick and shiny with their mixed fluids. The staring continued and Scott was about to break, about to beg for Jackson’s touch or…or _anything_ when he found his hips being yanked harshly forward, body suddenly bent in half.

He flailed, newly freed hands shooting out to balance himself as all his weight was suddenly resting on his shoulders, his hips and lower back against Jackson’s chest. “What are you-”

Scott let out a pitched sound of alarm, eyes wide as rough fingers pulled his checks apart, leaving him utterly exposed.

“Shut up,” Jackson snarled, voice a low growl. “I wanna see.”

“Jax – you can’t! That’s dirty – _nehm!”_   Scott's head snapped back, claws digging desperately into the mattress, hips jerking in Jackson’s grip. The second wet, _wet_  brush of the blond’s tongue enlisted just as equally violent a reaction. The grip on his hips tightened and the Scott knew there would be bruises and the thought of bearing Jackson’s marks only seemed to turn him on even further.

Jackson’s tongue bathed his hole; alternating long swirls over the center and short, yet thorough, licks around his rim, and long laps that covered it completely, ending with a brush across his sack.

_This is wrong, dirty. That’s…that’s my...he’s licking my – this is-_

_Perfect._

Saliva was gathering in a pool around the puckered muscle, sliding down his cock and sack and Scott swore he could feel it seep inside. The sounds coming from his mouth were pornographic, his dick spasming like a thing possessed, precum dripping from his cock and sliding down the curve of his neck, gathering against his Adam apple. He knot was blown, nearly full and angry, throbbing with his heartbeat. The tongue’s attention was unrelenting, Jackson’s eyes closed and pleased like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted, and Scott felt like he was going insane, the grip on the bed the only thing keeping him from flying away.

“Fucking beautiful,” Jackson groaned as he pulled away. Scott found himself being spread even wider, the tips of the blond’s thumbs pulling his hole apart. It was literally unimaginably arousing, the look on the other wolf's face as he stared down at the exposed pink flesh, face hungry and possessive. The thumbs pulled him apart even more, stretching the muscle wide, and Jackson leaned down, tongue flicking at the newly exposed tunnel. Each probe of the thick muscle went straight to Scott’s cock, making it leap and sending full body shudders down his body.

His cock was leaking unendingly, his balls swollen and drawn. He was gonna cum – fuck he needed it. Needed it so bad.

“J-Jax!” Scott tired, but the thumbs spread him even wider and he choked on his words. “Gonna – need to – _please!”_

Jackson’s mouth suddenly latched on, completely covering his stretch hole and the probing thumbs and Scott was gone, coming with a loud shriek, the shift sweeping through him like a wave. The heat of his cum shocked him as it splattered against his face, coating his hair and chin in long, seemingly never ending pulses. It was an erroneous amount, an impossibility for anyone but a teenage werewolf, and would be an utter mess to clean up. Scott was too lost in ecstasy to care.

“Jesus,” Jackson breathed, voice destroyed, when the younger Beta finally finished.

Scott found his hips being lowered, a still hard cock being tucked between his cheeks. Jackson rocked into him a few times before leaning forward, folding Scott’s completely plaint body once more. Lips caught his own in a filthy kiss and the brunet couldn’t even bring himself to care where the tongue stroking his own had been. The blond pulled away, licking a line across his lips before methodically cleaning Scott’s face of his own cum.

Scott whimpered, cock growing hard again at each roll of Jackson against him and the sensations on his face. The blond let out a low growl, the sound echoing in Scott’s own chest as his thrusts grew feverish. His own hips flexed in response and Jackson let out a choked sound as the head of his cock butted against Scott’s hole. The younger Beta tensed, but Jackson didn’t push in, only rocked his hips in short, tight thrusts that nudged the swollen tip against it again and again.

The older teen let out a strangled whine, face rippling in and out of the change.

“Come on, Jackson.”

“Scott-”

“Let go,” he encouraged softly, hands running up and down straining forearms. “I shifted, you won’t hurt me. This is okay, this okay for us. It’s – it’s natural.”

Jackson grit his teeth, head thrown back as he shifted for the first time. The thrusts grew stronger, Jackson tucking his chin against his chest, eyes squeezed shut against the intensity of it.

“Come on, Jax.” Scott coaxed, voice a low groan, rocking back against him. “Come on, cum on me.”

Blue eyes snapped open to stare at him incredulously at the same moments his hips jerked forward roughly. Both wolves howled as the very head of Jackson’s cock breached him and Scott’s hips seemed to move on their own, slamming forward in one rough movement, taking the whole of his cock, even the rough swell of his knot. The brunet let out a cry of pain, body arching against the intrusion even as Jackson's body stiffened, hips locked flat against Scott's cheeks, moaning loudly.  

“F-Fuck,” the blond panted, falling forward onto his forearms, “fuck, Scottie. I’m – are you – you can’t do that, baby. Gonna hurt yourself.”

“'m fine,” Scott managed around a whimper, blinking past tears, “h-healing already.”

And he was. His channel was healing, tight and firm, around Jackson’s cock.

“Oh-Oh, god.” Jackson gasped, hips rocking minutely, “God, I just keep coming.” He was filling him up. Scott could feel each pulse of Jackson’s cock, could feel each twitch of his orgasm, each beating swell of his knot as it grew. “Oh,” Jackson whined, eyes squeezed closed tightly, “oh, _what-”_

“‘S your knot.” Scott slurred, “keeps you to me, keeps your cum in me for babies.”

Eyes few open in alarm, “You can’t-”

“No.” Scott answered, both hands clinging to the bed frame as the pressure inside him grew and grew.

“Does it hurt?”

Scott hesitated - because it did – but shook his head because the pain was starting to feel good. He shifted his hips, trying to ease the ache and both teenagers groaned as Jackson’s knot ground against something utterly perfect inside him.

“Fuck, Scottie, that’s your – I can feel your-”

“What?” Scott managed as he repeated the motion again and again, trying to recreate the spike of pleasure. Strong hands stilled his desperate searching, grinding his hips in a slow roll and Scott was – Scott was _lost,_ cock weeping again.

“Your prostate.” Jackson groaned out. “I can feel your prostate.”

The blond guided Scott’s hips relentlessly, grinding that spot against his knot repeatedly, cursing loudly as each stroke caused Scott to tighten more around him. Finally the younger Beta came again, crying out hoarsely and dragging another series of orgasms from Jackson. Yet _still_  Scott kept coming, even when his cock was limp and used against his chest, cum leaking from it as Jackson’s knot milked his prostate.

When it was over, when Scott could do no more than shudder and whimper and whine at each press against his drained gland, Jackson collapsed against him, body a welcomed weight a top his own.

“Can’t pull out.” Scott said drowsily, suddenly glad to have the knot as an excuse to keep the other teen close. “Not till it goes down.”

“Don’t want to move,” Jackson rasped, “fuck, wanna stay in you forever.”

Scott shivered, bringing both arms up wrap around the blond’s sweat slick body. “I think I love you.”

Above him Jackson stiffened and then Scott found himself being kissed somewhat senseless. The mouth against his nipped his bottom lip, sucking on the swollen flesh, worrying the cut his teeth had made earlier, before the older teen pulled back. Grey eyes were soft as they stared down at him, a thumb brushing over his cheek before Jackson let himself fall face first into the pillow.

“You’re mine, Scottie.” There was a sharp bite against his neck, almost immediately soothed by soft lips and a warm tongue. _“Mine.”_

Scott grinned, a hand skating up a sweaty neck before tangling in short strands.

Close enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jackson's a wolf! Yay! Oh but Peter, you naughty nuttjob you. 
> 
> Man I always get nervous with these sexy times chapters. Was it good? Also, I threw in some extra wolf behavior in the Jackscott scene. Anyone catch them all?
> 
> Also, Derek is a dirty tease.


	17. Family Ties, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The entire house smelled of sex.
> 
> The entire house.
> 
> John Stilinski stood at his back door, face twisted in disbelief as he tried to figure out what to do. Because it was pretty obvious that someone (if not both Jackson and Scott and Derek and…and…hell he couldn’t even think it) had been having sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays, guys!
> 
> Here's my Christmas gift to you guys, smut! A short little Sterek teaser for what's coming, but smut nonetheless!
> 
> Unbetaed for now.

**February 5th, 2011 - Monday**

Stiles woke to the sound of his own gasping moan.

He was painfully hard, his dick fully erect and aching in his gym shorts, his boxer briefs sopping wet from both his cockhead and leaking pussy. The Delta squirmed, whimpering softly at the almost uncomfortable level of arousal, as he dug a palm reflexively against his erection. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken like this – he was a teenager, after all – but he always hated it; waking up all needy and wanting. It always made him feel so alone.

But…something wasn’t right. He wasn’t in his bed. 

Stiles’ eyes fluttered open in confusion, hand freezing from where he’d been stroking himself through layers of fabric. He wasn’t in his bed at all, but Derek’s and – and the air was littered with the smell of sex, thick and heavy, and the sounds of fucking _(moans and gasps and groans and desperate cries of Jackson! Jackson!)_ drifting from next door.

Realization struck Stiles all at once. Jackson had clearly survived the change and now he and Scott were – _in his bedroom, oh my god why_ – and…and he currently had Derek Hale’s body curved around him, a rather sizable erection pressing insistently into the curve of Stiles’ ass. The teen shivered, hands gripping the sheets in an attempt to keep from grinding his oversensitive center against the warm thickness.

He couldn’t quite help the shudder of his hips – couldn’t quite keep from canting back at angle so that Derek’s tip, loose and free in sleep pants and boxers, was probing intimately against his covered folds. The teen let out a gasp at the perfection of it, biting his bottom lip hard as claws dug into fabric in a bid for desperate control, entire body tensing in an attempt to resist the urge to rock. The sounds from next room were growing in both volume and passion, the scent of sex fraying the teenager’s control even further.

Stiles forced himself to breathe through his mouth, attempting to bypass the enticing smell, but it pointless; the teen could taste it on his tongue, like liquid. He let out a whimper, body shaking as Derek seemed to grow even harder, seemed to _pulse_ against him. Surely it was his imagination that the Beta was pressing forward purposely? He glanced over his shoulder to see if Derek was awake.

It was a terrible mistake.

The older wolf was still asleep but his face was flushed red, mouth parted and lips chapped as he panted silently but heavily, chest heaving as he drew in deep inhales of the molten scent. Stiles whimpered, eyes squeezing shut against the sight.

Guilty, Stiles reached behind him _(this was so wrong, so wrong but he needed)_ and shuddered as his hand wrapped around an iron hard, hot cock and guided it into the space between his legs – and rocked.

After the first full press of Derek against his cunt, at the breathless moan it drew from the older wolf, he was lost. Stiles threw his head back, panting and back arching as he ground back. His hands slid between his legs so that he could stroke his covered cock.

He was impossibly wet, the slick soaking clear through his gym shorts, precum darkening the red fabric to a deep burgundy.  Stiles had never been so aware of his channel outside of heat; his insides _ached,_ throbbed in a deep want. He was rocking hard enough to shake the entire mattress now, his thighs aching from the strain to press harder, press closer and –

There was a strangled groan from behind him, hands stilling his desperate hips as Derek came alive behind him. _“Stiles.”_

He pressed back against the older wolf’s chest, whining loudly. Instinct had him opening submissively; a leg bending up at the knee to show both their erections – Derek’s own peeking from between his thighs – hips quivering, chest heaving, neck long and exposed as Stiles stared up at him beseechingly. He watched in hopeful fascination as Derek took in the display, pupils dilating until the darkened green was a sliver around it.

“Derek, please, _please_ touch me.” Stiles whimpered, trying desperately to move in the firm grip, but it was impossible.

Derek made a choked sound. “We have to wait, it’s not right, I have to – to John – _Jesus, Stiles.”_

Stiles had freed his own cock, squirming in Derek’s grasp as he slid his hands greedily over his aching flesh. He whined, head tossing against Derek's shoulder as he tugged at it, feeling more aroused than ever at the thought of someone watching him. Stiles wanted him to watch, wanted him to touch, wanted to feel those big hands on him.

In him.

He needed – god – he needed something inside. Needed Derek inside and –

A large hand pressed against his mouth, silencing the obscene things the Delta hadn’t known he was voicing. He could feel Derek’s heart beating against his back, feel the way his chest heaved. Stiles whimpered, dragging his tongue across Derek’s palm in long, wet swirls as he trailed a hand down to tease his knot, the need for his cock to be touched too great to be ignored, even with Derek stuttering behind him. The sound the older wolf made as he watched Stiles’ fingertips swirled around swollen skin was inhuman; a low growl that the teen could feel rumbling in every inch of his body.

Stiles’ tried to slide his hand down even further, tried to fill the horrible aching need deep inside, only for his wrists to be caught by Derek. Stiles cried out, the sound so loud it couldn’t even be properly muffled by the hand against his mouth, body bowing as a large, calloused hand wrapped around the base of his cock. It squeezed against his knot once, twice, before pressing even lower.

It was as if his mind completely short-circuited. The first tentative touch against his center was electric and Stiles froze, entire body quivering, afraid to move in case it somehow made the touch disappear.

“You’re so wet,” Derek breathed against Stiles’ ear, sounding awestruck as his fingers gently probed the teen’s lips. It was as if Stiles couldn’t get enough air in his lungs and the he tore his face free from the older wolf’s hold, mouth open as he took greedy, heavy inhales. The hand settled against his neck instead, brushing the soft skin there before drifting down his shirt to enclose over the Stiles' own, guiding him to start pumping his cock again. “Do you have any idea how you smell like this?”

Stiles shook his head, whimpering as the fingers gently parted each fold, stroking over his quivering hole.

“You smell…”

“Derek, _please!”_  Stiles cried, trying to move his hips against the soft touch. Derek only shook his head, pressing a harsh kiss against the side of the Delta’s chin as he tightened their grip against his turgid cock.

“Maybe it’s because you’re a third. I’ve never smelt anything like it.” A single fingertip pressed experimentally inside him and the teen gasped, feeling a fresh rush of slick leak from him all at once, drenching his thighs and the probing finger and further down - pooling in the cradle of Derek's palm. It pressed deeper, up to the second knuckle, and Stiles groaned, legs spreading wide as Derek rolled him onto his back, settling over Stiles' thigh; eyes intense as he worked him.

“Derek, oh, _oh,_ so good, _Derek-”_

A second finger slid in next to the other, gentle and careful as it stretched him. “That night – that second night I was here.”

Stiles froze, eyes flying open in horror. “You…you _were awake?_ Oh fuck, I’m so-” the Delta broke off midsentence, a cry leaving him as the fingers inside of him thrust experimentally before beginning a deep, grueling pace. There was a soft laugh from above him.

“How could I not be? Fuck, Stiles, I could hear you. Hear you doing this,” a third finger was added almost roughly and the teenager let out a gasping choke as he felt the digits spread wide inside him, stretching his passage, “to yourself. I could smell you. Could smell your slick, smell when you came.”

Stiles hand had fallen away from his dick, searching desperately for purchase as Derek’s large hands both pumped his length relentlessly and burrowed deeper inside him than he’d ever managed on his own. He was so wet, so wet everywhere. Wet down his thighs, wet coating his length, making obscene sloshing sounds as it smeared between his skin and Derek's hands. His voice was low, almost angry, echoed by a continuous growl as his hips shifted against Stiles’ thigh restlessly.

“Your heartbeat – it was going so fast. And the sounds you made – Christ – it took everything I had to wait until you fell asleep to touch myself.”

“You-”

“I had to walk past your bedroom to get to the bathroom. Do you know how hard it was for me to just-” A mouth bit at his covered shoulder harshly as a another finger was added. There were four fingers inside of him now and they curved, pressing together compactly. “You’re a terrible tease, Stiles.”

He let out a sound of protest, “a-am not.”

“The hell you’re not,” the Beta countered almost gently, “always sharing your food, always touching, always smelling,” Derek shook his head, looking almost lost, “ _ripe_.”

 _Oh – oh fuck,_ why did that turn him on so badly?

Stiles moaned, straining up to try and catch Derek’s mouth in a desperate kiss as he fucked himself shamelessly back on those big fingers. The feel of something else – another living thing inside himself, not just a toy – was unbelievable. Derek’s fingers were so wide, so warm, so strong as they thrust into him unfailingly, each stroke pressing against his prostate.

They kissed sloppily, teeth nipping at each other’s lips and tongues, panting heavily into each other’s mouths. Derek humped his thigh fervently, grinding Stiles deep into the mattress and the feel of it made him shiver with want.

“Fuck me. Need you,” he begged, “need you to...Derek, I’m gonna – please, I want you – need you – _oh!”_

The fingers inside him had twisted, grown wider – a thumb had been added Stiles realized – and the digits curled down, forming a partial fist. Derek’s knuckles wide enough to simulate a knot and the Delta cried out as he convulsed, cum spilling messily over the older wolf’s hand, absurdly strong Kegel muscles locking down on the thick intrusion.

“So tight,” Derek managed hoarsely, “gonna feel so good around my knot.”

Stiles whimpered, entire body quivering, completely exhausted from the most intense orgasm of his young life. But still, it didn’t feel right, “…want you, _please.”_

“Soon,” Derek promised, voice still rough as he carefully slid his fingers free. Stiles sighed, eyes opening bleary at the sound of cloth rustling. He felt his breath catch at the sight of Derek nearly ripping his bottoms down to free his cock. It was absurdly thick and long, easily eleven inches, foreskin pulled back and head glossy. Precum was leaking liberally down the engorged flesh, tracing random paths down and though Stiles couldn’t see it, he could _feel_ the thick, swollen knot that was pressed against his thigh.

He let out a soft keening sound at the sight, spreading his legs wider – offering even in the exhaustion of his own afterglow – but a hand pressed down on Stiles waist, keeping him immobile while the other (the hand that had been inside Stiles, the hand that was completely covered in his slick) began a bruising pace.

“Fuck,” Derek gasped, hips bucking into his own grip, “fuck, Stiles.”

He out a soft whine at his name, trailing soft, open mouth kisses against the older wolf’s lower jaw. He nipped gently, biting just enough to leave a mark before pulling away. “Can’t wait for my heat,” he whispered, cheeks flushing as he marveled at his own bravado, “can’t wait for you to fill me up, make me yours.”

_“Stiles.”_

He pressed his leg up, shivering at the burning hot heat of Derek’s knot against his skin. Stiles felt completely out of control, heart pounding so loud he was sure his father could hear it in his cruiser on Vine. He let his body going limp and lax, spread out open and bare to the older wolf, neck exposed. It was submission, unmistakable submission, and above him Derek’s breath quickened, the skin on his face tightening and rising slightly, as if swollen, and Stiles knew his own eyes were glowing brightly, could feel the slight pressure and itch of an oncoming shift.

“Never wanted anyone like I want you. Not Danny, not anyone. Want you to knot me, fill me up – put a – put a baby in me, Derek.”

The big body above him seized, hips jerking violently as Derek let out a muffled howl from behind grit teeth. Streaks of cum landed messily against Stiles’ limp cock and exposed belly, up against his shirted chest before pooling down Derek’s own length and settling between them. The older wolf came and came, hips twitching less violently with each pulse and Stiles couldn’t help but watch in rapt fascination.

Finally it came to an end and both wolves collapsed, Derek’s weight heavy against him, exhausted.

Stiles burrowed his face against a sweaty neck. For a long moment they both just breathed, shaky arms wrapped tightly around each other. Eventually though the Beta pulled free, pressing a kiss against pliant lips before he disappeared into the bathroom. Stiles allowed the older wolf manhandle him, letting out only the faintest noises of complaint when Derek returned with a wet paper towel and began to clean him up. Bizarre and, frankly, perverted as it was, the teenager didn’t want it off. Stiles was more than willing to carry a physical form of Derek’s scent on his skin.

Still, he was far too tired to really object so he let the other wolf did as he please, aware only in the vaguest of senses of being tucked back into sodden briefs and shorts, of his shirt tugged back down. By the time Derek settled down once more with him, Stiles was already lost, slipping into sleep utterly sated.

The entire house smelled of sex.

The _entire house._

John Stilinski stood at his back door, face twisted in disbelief as he tried to figure out what to do. Because it was pretty obvious that someone (Jackson and Scott and by the scent, Derek and…and…hell he couldn’t even think it) had been having sex.

The smell was old by a few hours but still fervently present. Taking a deep breath of the outside to anchor himself, the aging Beta cautiously took a step into his own house. He didn’t bother with taking off his shoes or jacket – there was no way he was going to be able to sleep here. He’d be staying in the tiny little Winnebago on the edge of their property tonight for sure. This was absurd. Sure the boys were growing up but John should be able to come home without it being thrown in his face.

A voice called out to him from the kitchen.

“In here, Dad.”

Stiles was at the table, nursing a cup of hot coca. His son was damp and pinked cheek; freshly showered. But still Derek’s scent seemed to radiate off of him. John watched him, visibly searching for anything different in his son. Yet outside of the second scent, Stiles looked much the same. Which made sense, it was silly to think that his boy would look different after…well…

His son gave him a nervous smile. “Come take a seat, pops. We need to talk.”

John did, sinking into the seat slowly. “...so, are congratulations in order?”

Stiles choked on his drink, coughing slightly as he wiped at his mouth. “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?” The teenager asked hoarsely, blushing heavily. He brought a hand up to rub the curve of his shoulder and neck. “Maybe for Scott and Jackson but not, uh, not for me.”

“Not yet,” the older Beta corrected softly, watching as his son grew even redder.

“Oh man, is this as awkward for you as it is for me?”

“Way worse on this end, kiddo.” John said dryly and the two shared a strained laugh.

“It’s what I want, Dad.”  Stiles said after a moment, voice steady but there with an underline of real fear, as if he really thought John was going to reject this, reject this when it was so clear that this was what Stiles’ wanted. As if John hadn’t once been eighteen in utterly in love, hadn’t once been in Stiles' place, in Derek’s, but with far less too offer. “I know…that this is sudden and you probably wish I was a little older, but it's happening, soon. And mom was only seventeen when you two mated! That’s only a year older than me. And we’ll stay in Beacon Hills, I could never leave you or Scott. I don’t even want to go to college-”

John stiffened, “a college education unlocks so many doors. Even with a family, if you wanted to there are ways and-”

“Right away! I don’t want to go to college right away, Dad! Jeez-us.” The teenager threw both hands up in frustration. “Let a person finish a sentence.” Instantly his son grew more somber. “Look, I know the timing isn't awesome with the Argents and the Alpha and every other crazy thing that’s happened around here. But, but I want this. I never thought I’d have a chance to get this and…and…Dad, I-”

“Stiles, baby.” John shushed, placing both hands on his son’s hands. “It’s alright. If you want this, then it’s fine. I couldn’t ask for a better son-in-law than Derek. I promise I’m not mad, sweetheart. It’s just,” he cleared his throat roughly, “your just so grown up all the sudden. How did I miss that?”

“Hey,” Stiles quipped quietly, “it’s not like we’re moving out tomorrow. And think, you’ll be the cool, young grandpop. We could always name our first born after the Lone Ranger, I know that was your scene when you were a kid.”

He rolled his eyes, “the Lone Ranger’s name _is_ John, Stiles.”

“So it’s a win-win!”

“Uh-huh.” John shifted. “So, I take it by soon you mean-”

“My next heat, yeah.”

“Stiles, there are…things…that I never got a chance to tell you. Things about…male werewolves’ – uh – bodies that are…that are different and-”

“Dad! Oh my god, just _no.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked, I've got to run off for family stuff. Everyone have a great new year!


	18. Family Ties, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His friend was silent for a long time, then, “but why won’t John let me and Jackson sleep together? I can’t get pregnant.”
> 
> “Holy shit, I knew you were the catcher.” Stiles practically howled, only to be socked in the face with a pillow harshly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get up. Thing's have been so busy I wrote this on my phone. No lie.
> 
> Unbeta-ed.

**February 5th, 2011 - Monday**

The sound of Stiles' alarm blared through the room, causing him to jerk awake in startled surprise. But as soon as the sound started, it was silenced. The large body by his side shifted but Stiles refused to let go, toes curling in the warmth of their cocoon of blankets. There was a chuckle the Delta felt more then heard as Derek propped his body up on one arm. Stiles adjusted instantly, burrowing into the warm space between the sheets and Derek's chest.  
  
"It's ten to six-thirty, Stiles."  
  
He let out a soft, sleepy heavy whimper. "Don't care, dropping out. Never gonna leave bed again."  
  
A gentle hand pried him from his hiding place, warm lips catching his own. Stiles sighed into it, arms curling around the Beta as they kissed lazily, nothing more than an exchange of skin brushing skin before Derek reluctantly pulled away.  
  
"Come on, up. Your dad's making breakfast and we still need to talk to Jackson about controlling his change."  
  
Stiles groaned as he swung his feet over the side of the bed. "All over my room. Gonna have to _burn_ everything."  
  
"You want me to wake them up?" Derek asked, but Stiles just waved him off, yawning widely as he headed to his room.  
  
At the sound of the door opening, both wolves woke and Stiles was greeted with the sight of two pairs of bleary of eyes; one the soft tint of Changed amber, the other the bright blue of a natural Born. They were tangled together, both naked as the day they were born, and thankfully on the trundle bed.  
  
At least Stiles' bed had been spared.  
  
"Rise and shine, puppies."  
  
"The hell, Stilinski?" Jackson snapped  
  
"School day." He explained with a yawn, shivering slightly as an arm looped loosely around his waist, pulling him back against Derek’s solid chest.  "Pop's got food and coffee waiting. You probably wanna put some clothes on." His nose wrinkled at the potent smell of sex. "And open a window."  
  
Scott jerked at the sudden reminder of his state of dress, entire body erupting in a blush as he scrambled for the covers. But they were trapped under them and left his friend tugging at them comically. Jackson, unsurprisingly, was unashamed of his nakedness, rolling his eyes at Scott's frantic pulls. What was surprising was the way he sat up casually, possessively blocking the frantic teen from sight. "We need a shower."  
  
"Door across the hall, don't take too long and no funny business." He wagged a finger at them before allowing Derek to drag him downstairs.  
  
He greeted his dad with a yawning hug, happily taking an offered piece of toast. "Morning, Pops."  
  
"Good morning." John greeted, looking comfortable in his pajamas and robe. "I hear everyone's up. Any idea if Jackson's folks know where he is?"  
  
Stiles paused, the thought literally not having entering his mind once during the hectic night. "Uh, no idea. Melissa won't be home till seven so we're in the clear there."  
  
"Well," the Sheriff said with a sigh as he doled out eggs to each plate, "I suppose that will make my day more entertaining."  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"It is what it is,” John said, voice even, than shook his head as he settled against the counter with the newspaper, “but we're going to have to establish some rules at some point, kiddo."  
  
Well, Stiles thought nervously, that sounded vaguely ominous.  
  
The other two Betas joined them around the time Stiles was finishing breakfast and he watched them as they settled and ate.  Their pack was getting big. When they'd finished, Derek and his father exchanged a look before John set the paper down.  
  
"Jackson, Scott has explained things to you, correct?" His dad began slowly. The blonde nodded, a look of reserved curiosity on his face. "So you know that the Alpha is incredibly dangerous and may be able to control you to some extent."  
  
"I broke it," Scott said quietly, looking slightly green as he thought of the night before. "It was hard but...but it tried to make me hurt Jackson and I just couldn't."  
  
John nodded. "That's good to know. That you can break it, I mean. But you both still need to be on a constant defensive until he's stopped. What's more, I want you both to come straight home-"  
  
"We have practice." Jackson interrupted.  
  
"Too bad." Derek said sharply. "You both need to work on your control."  
  
"The sooner you can get that down, the better." John agreed with a nod. "Discovery is our greatest threat. Can you imagine what humans would do to us if they knew we existed?" A grim silence followed that. "What's more it’s time we start teaching you all how to fight."  
  
"I know how to fight," Stiles interjected. John had been in both wrestling and boxing all through high school and had taught the Delta much of what he retained.  
  
"You know how to spar," John corrected, "you have no idea how to fight another wolf or as a group. You are all a part of a pack now, something much greater than just yourself. Protecting each other and our secret has to always be the top priority."  
  
Scott nodded gravely, but Jackson only smiled around the cup of his orange juice, looking inordinately pleased about something.  
  
"Coach won't like it." Their newest wolf said after swallowing. "But if we really got some prick trying to kill us I suppose he'll have to deal with it." To say it was a surprise to hear the ultra-committed, obsessively competitive Jackson Whittemore give up practice so quickly was an understatement and both Stiles and Scott stared at him.  
  
"What?" He snapped. "Staying alive is more important than lacrosse."  
  
"Well put." John said with a small smile. "I'll call Coach and give him some sort of excuse. Now, one last thing. Unless I say otherwise, no school night slumber parties. And no one shares a bed until anything is finalized."  
  
Everyone except Derek (who kept his face carefully blank) seemed to object all at once.  
  
"That's not up for discussion." The Sheriff said loudly, ignoring their protests. "I'm not running a damn brothel."  
  
Stiles his face in his hand, face burning, as Scott let out a series of horrified choking sounds. God love the man, but his dad had zero tact.

BHS looked the same as always. Scott didn't know why he thought it would be different. Maybe it was because he was different.  
  
He wasn't a virgin anymore.  
  
Bit damn, he still blushed like one. He scratched at his nose, trying to hide his burning cheeks from Jackson. He had insisted on driving them and Scott was currently enjoying the heated seats; something that neither the Jeep or the backseat of the Camaro had. The heat was pleasant against the ever present ache in his ass. It was a dull thing, like a several day’s old pulled muscle, just slightly stiff. Scott didn't want to know what it would have felt like without his healing. Jackson's knot had been huge. The Beta squirmed at the thought of his pleasurable night, feeling the faint stirrings of lust in his gut. As if he somehow knew Scott's thoughts, Jackson grinned smugly from behind the wheel.  
  
"Shut up." He muttered, embarrassed.  
  
Scott wasn't sure where the two of them stood. Yeah, they'd fucked and he'd told Jackson his feelings, and they were packmates now - but a week ago Jackson had been dating Lydia, as heterosexual as they came. And then there was Danny, who was still furious about seemingly be replaced by Derek. And the whole of the school, who loved nothing but to judge.  
  
Were they boyfriends? Friends with benefits?

Scott wished today hadn't been a school day, that he could of had more time to think or talk to Jackson in private. Maybe then they could have discussed whatever was happening between them, define it or something. Maybe then he'd have known how today was supposed to play out. They parked and Scott tried to ignore the stares as he climbed out of the Porsche, swinging his backpack on awkwardly.

Jackson, used to this type of attention, was utterly nonplussed. "Ready?"

Scott nodded but hesitated nonetheless. "Jackson, we...I mean," he fumbled, bringing a hand to rub at his neck in discomfort. "If you - we don't have to tell anyone if you don't want to. I won't be mad, I'd... I'd understand."  
  
And Scott would. He'd only just come to understand his own sexuality, he hadn't even told his mom yet. That last thing he wanted was for Jackson to feel pressured or uncomfortable. There was a low growl from in front of him and Scott's head snapped up in alarm. A hand yanked him roughly forward, an arm wrapping around his waist in an iron-like grip and suddenly the younger Beta was being kissed.  
  
Quite thoroughly, in fact.  
  
In front of what was practically the entire student body of Beacon Hills High.  
  
And Scott just melted into it, hand curling around Jackson's hips as a tongue dominated his mouth. But as suddenly as it began, it ended, and he was left staring at Jackson in breathless confusion. "Jaxs?"  
  
"You're mine, Scottie." Jackson said, voice hard and eyes intense. "I don't give a shit what other people think."  
  
"Oh..." Scott breathed, a pleasant feeling knocking the ball of anxiety from his chest.  
  
"Oy," a sharp voice called and they turned to find an amused looking Stiles approaching, "nice job, Rhett, everybody knows Scarlett's yours. Now that's over with, you should probably stop traumatizing people before someone gets a teacher."  
  
And just like that Scott was forcibly broken from his daze, ducking his head at the sight of so many wide-eyed, open mouthed stares pointed in their direction. He let Stiles take him by the arm, tugging him up the stairs. "Everyone is staring. God."  
  
"No shit, man, with that kind of PDA. You're all anyone's going to be talking about. Check it out, you’re finally something worth talking about."  
  
“Yeah, great.” Scott bemoaned, but couldn’t help the small smile he felt tugging at his lips.  
  
 _Definitely boyfriend._

It turned out that Monday evening was also parent-teacher night, something which in the insanity of everything happening everyone had forgotten, so there was no need to lie as practice had been canceled. The results of the meeting were not super kind to any of the teenagers.  
  
Jackson was doing the best academically, but was coming dangerously close to getting a C in chemistry and now that Danny wasn't his partner anymore (he seemed to be the only one really reacting rawly to his and Scott's hook up, with Lydia and Allison utterly uncaring) which it would probably drop lower. That would put him position to possibly lose his captaincy since Coach required all team officers to have straight B average at least. But it worked out to some extent, as Stiles was pretty awesome at the subject and the Delta was practically failing economics, in which Jackson was getting straight As.  
  
They been voluntold by John that they would be tutoring each other around lacrosse and werewolf practice. A similar fate had befallen Scott, who was actually failing English and Spanish. Given that Derek had majored in one and minored in the other, he'd volunteered his services.  
  
At first Stiles thought it was an excuse his pops had given to Melissa and the Whittemores so that the four of them could spend almost unlimited time together on the weekdays. Turns out that had been wishful thinking. Alpha or hunter threat be damned, John was determined that none of them would miss out on their education.  
  
Honestly though, the hour or two a day spent in academia was a welcome break from what Stiles had affectionately nicknamed 'Doggie Boot camp.' It was a lot more intense than what he'd been anticipating. If they weren't at school or practice, John and Derek were drilling them. They learned how to fight alone and together, in duos and trios and as a pack. They visited Deaton's every other day where they were shown basic first aid for humans and wolves alike, as well as a crash course in basic symbology and other supernatural creatures, friendly and not.  
  
Dad brought them to the gun range to familiarize themselves with weapons and then to the forest where they were shown favorite tricks and traps of hunters. Derek took them into the small inner city of Beacon Hills, where he showed them how to use the urban environment to their advantage, how to climb and free run, where short cuts were and 24 hour public places which would make hunters hard pressed to follow and engage them.  
  
And John and Derek would go for hours sometimes in the backyard while the three teenagers watched, faces various different expressions of awe, and seemingly tried to kill each other. It certainty gave Stiles a whole new impression of his father, that was for sure.  
  
Even as a wolf, it was exhausting.  
  
By the time Friday rolled around, John decided they'd done enough to deserve a break and had ordered enough pizzas that the delivery girl stared at them like they were insane when she realized there was only five of them.  
  
The Sheriff had even offered them beer (and hadn't Jackson's horrified reaction to being told he could no longer get drunk been hilarious) and free rein to ordered what they wanted off of pay per view. They settled on watching all of the Godzilla's movies that were on sale for a buck a piece while playing one of the most intense games of Monopoly of Stiles’ existence. Both the Alpha and the Argents had been nerve rackingly quiet in a way which undoubtedly meant they were planning something terrible, but the Delta was willing to ignore that fact for some good old fashion bonding board games.  
  
Maybe – if they were really lucky – the two were busy off killing each other off.  
  
They went to bed sometimes after two, probably closer to three, Jackson with Derek after the (thoroughly cleaned) trundle bed had been maneuvered into the guestroom and Stiles and Scott in his room.  
  
The two of laughed like little school kids, giggling madly as they snuggled on the bed like they were ten again. Except they weren’t ten. They weren’t even remotely the same size either and the two were pressed shoulder to thigh on the full bed. But the closeness didn’t bother the Delta, not with Scott. Never with Scott.  
  
“Hey, Stiles?”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“What did your dad mean, about finalizing things?” Scott’s voice was a soft whisper in the dark room. “Is that another werewolf culture thing?”  
  
Stiles shifted slightly, chewing on his bottom lip. He’d wondered if his friend would ask about that. This was a conversation he knew he’d need to have with Scott at some point, especially now that he was with Jackson. “Well, kinda is. And it’s kinda not.”  
  
“Yeah?”  
  
“Yeah. You see, when two werewolves love each other very much-”  
  
 _“Stiles.”_  
  
“What? I’m being serious!” Stiles said with a short laugh. “Honestly, man, that’s what the ‘finalizing’ thing was about. We work a little differently than humans, because of how connected we are to our senses. We’re more…more grounded, yeah? More in touch with things. Our biology dictates a lot. When two wolves met, if their bodies find each other a suitable mate, they start to feel a pull towards each other. Pheromones, hormones, something. I don’t really understand, but it’s supposed to help ensure healthy mates for healthy babies.”  
  
“Seriously?” He sounded stunned.  
  
“Wild, right?” Stiles said with a dry chuckle. “Humans can do it too, I guess, they just don’t feel or notice it like we do. When two compatible wolves mate they usually pair-bond right off the bat. Then it’s like permanent marriage; you’re together until one of you dies.”  
  
“But…I mean…it’s not all biology, right? If it’s a permanent thing, you have to like the person. I mean, I think Lydia Martin’s hot as shit but she’s a raging bitch.”  
  
“It’d definitely help.” The Delta agreed, trying to keep the dark emotion out of his voice as he thought of his traitorous body’s reaction to the Alpha. “But this thing in us, this virus or whatever…I mean, Scott, we’re animals. You’ve seen how you can just get lost in the wolf.”  
  
His friend was silent for a long time, then, “but why won’t John let me and Jackson sleep together? I can’t get pregnant.”  
  
“Holy shit, I _knew_ you were the catcher.” Stiles practically howled, only to be socked in the face with a pillow harshly. A brief wrestling match ensured, the two scuffling around the bed until Stiles nearly fell off and the two settled down again.  
  
“You going to answer the question or what?”  
  
“The fact that he didn’t want you coating all of our stuff with your love juices isn’t enough?” The Delta teased, before turning on his side to face his annoyed friend. “It’s because same-sexed wolves can pair-bond.” Stiles hadn’t been sure, he’d had to check his mother’s book and ask Derek, but apparently it wasn’t that uncommon. Besides him, Scott had gone very, very still. “It takes longer, but it happens."  
  
"...how?"  
  
"If they're a good match and have been together for a while, they’ll eventually start cycling at the same time,” Stiles answered, voice gentle at look on his friend’s face, “heats line up for females and thirds, ruts for males.”  
  
At Scott’s frustrated look, he was quick to clarify.  
  
“A rut is like my heat, but instead of just being really horny, you’re apparently gonna want to fight everybody too. I dunno for sure, Dad stopped rutting when Mom died and I usually went to stay with friends for the week when it happened. Males tend to not have them unless they’ve mated, so if you have even have one there's a good chance you’ve pair-bonded.”  
  
”How long is 'a while?'"  
  
“I’m not sure, but Derek said his Uncle Tristan managed a partial pair-bonded with his husband in less than a year - and he was a human. I couldn’t imagine it would take any longer than that with two wolves.”  
  
Silence stretched between them once again, comfortable and easy, and he almost had nodded off when Scott’s voice filled the room once again. “Stiles?”  
  
“Mm?”  
  
"Do you think...me and Jack-"  
  
"Most def," he interrupted, mindful that Derek and Jackson were probably awake and listening only a wall away, determined to save his friend's privacy. "You've got good chemistry."  
  
“I guess." Scott said softly before turning his head to stare at him in the darkness. "You and Derek, that's more than just chemistry right? You like Derek. I mean, really like him."  
  
He could knew Scott well enough to hear all of the unasked questions that were flowing between them. _Did you love Derek? Or at the very least think you could grow to? Jesus, your sixteen, Stiles, are you alright with this happening so suddenly?_ They were nothing he hadn't asked himself, but Scott's protective worry filled his heart with warmth.  
  
“Yeah.” Stiles answered just as soft, eyes drifting to the shared wall as he tossed an arm over Scott's chest affectionately. “Yeah, I do.”  
  
There was a heavy sigh, the muscles under his arm expanding and deflating dramatically, before a callused hand curled over his forearm.  
  
“So. Marriage.”  
  
“Yep.”  
  
“And kids?”  
  
“Maybe. Chances are kinda high.”  
  
“Whoa."  
  
Stiles snorted. “No kidding. You ready to be Uncle Scott?"  
  
The hand on his arm squeezed. "I'm ready. You're my best friend, Stiles. That's the only good thing about this. I mean, the awesome breathing aside, we're the same now, like real brothers or something. I-I love you, man, like a stupid amount."  
  
"I'm gonna really need your help," Stiles admitted quietly, "a lot, I think."  
  
The thought of being a parent, of all the ways he could mess up a child for life, was terrifying.  
  
"You're gonna be a great dad, Stiles." And it was so like Scott to pick up on what he was thinking about, even without him voicing it. "And whatever you need, I got your back. We're gonna make your spuds totally awesome. I promise."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Yeah." Scott answered firmly, trembling slightly as he full body stretched before going limp.  
  
"I love you too, you know."  
  
Scott rolled, wrapping his own arm around the Delta's body and pulling until they were in a loose embrace. Stiles pressed his face against the Beta's shoulder, inhaling his scent. Scott still smelled as he always had, but now it was underwritten with wolf and Jackson and Derek and himself. Even his father's scent clung to his worn T-shirt.

He smelt like pack.  
  
Like family.

"Yeah, I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're drawing closer to the end folks. Things are about to get real.


	19. Alpha, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles swung his backpack on, taking a moment to ensure Peter was bundled under his blanket and hoodie, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek that evolved into a gentle nuzzle.
> 
> “Catch you on the flipside, dreamer. Try to think of nice things while I’m gone, alright?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy guys, the next chapter should be up soon.
> 
> Un-betaed.

**February 12 th, 2011 - Monday**

“- and I say yes, you look wonderful tonight, mmmm.’

The song faded back into humming as Stiles he ran the comb through the damp hair, carefully snipping pieces away. He was confident in his motions; he’d cut John and Scott’s hair for years and the Delta considered himself pretty good at it. Well, good at male haircuts. Stiles knew better than to attempt layers or anything complicated. He pulled the towel off a set of broad shoulders, careful to keep the hair pieces on it, before setting it and his tools down.

“There we go, Peter,” Stiles admired as he finger combed the now short haired away from his face, “bet you feel more like yourself now, don’t you?”

Derek had some things he had to do down at the Sheriff’s station with his dad, so Stiles had opted to go visit the comatose wolf in favor of invading Scott and Jackson’s afternoon date. The haircut – a short one modeled off an old family photo of Derek’s – easily shaved ten years off Peter, making him actually look his age of thirty-three.

“Sorry I couldn’t make it over to visit before now, but my dad’s been keeping me pretty busy.” He leaned over the wolf, resting a hand on the wheelchair arm while pointing towards the nearby (decorative?) dresser. Stiles had brought two framed photos, one of Derek and Laura in New York and another newer one of the pack as it was now.

“That’s him, on the far left. And next to him is Jackson – he’s a dick, but oh well, he’s ours I guess – and next to him is Scott. That’s me in the middle and then Derek. I have no idea why that mean nurse of yours keeps putting you so can’t see the window, but at least now when she does you’ll have something to look at other than the wall.”

Stiles packed his stuff away into his backpack. He’d been here for a few hours already, talking about everything and nothing as he did homework. He had no idea if Peter could even hear him, but he figured it didn’t hurt anything. But it was getting late and Stiles wanted to get out of the care center before he had yet another run in with that horrible red headed nurse. He had idea what he’d done to earn this woman’s wrath, but she it seemed like she couldn’t stand that Stiles was visiting Peter.

“I’ll try and be back soon but it’ll probably be a week or so before I can.” Stiles shivered slightly, feeling the slight tug of nausea in the bottom of his belly that singled the start of proestrus. His heat was soon.

Very soon.

“But I’ll try and see if Scott and Jackson want to stop by for me. Than you can see what kind of dick he is for yourself.”

Stiles swung his backpack on, taking a moment to ensure Peter was bundled under his blanket and hoodie, before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek that evolved into a gentle nuzzle.

“Catch you on the flipside, dreamer. Try to think of nice things while I’m gone, alright?”

The care center was fairly close to home, so it only took Stiles twenty minutes to hit up the store and get home. The house was still empty and so he pulled out a stew he’d made the night before, tossed it in the crock pot to slow cook, and headed into the living room. It took a little bit of maneuvering to get everything out of the wide, double door closet where the Stilinskis kept most of their outdoor games and camping equipment without it all just falling out in an ungainly manner, but Stiles managed it.

Slowly, bit by bit, the door to the basement was uncovered.

The door, built into the back of the closet, lead down to the rarely used basement. No one would have known that this part of the house had a basement; there was no windows to the exterior or outside doors. It was a safe place, a hidden place. Not even Scott had ever been down there. The door was locked, but Stiles had the only set of keys, kept in the same place – a small box kept in the middle drawer of his desk – and it only took a moment to unlock it.

It led to another door at the bottom of the steps, this one had a lock as well, but it was one that locked from the other side and was left open. The moment Stiles opened it, the stale scent of his last heat hit him full force. He wrinkled his nose, reaching over to flick on the lights. The basement was thrown into sharp relief. It was small, far smaller than the actual house, which made sense as it was technically a second basement. The main basement, the one that was accessible through an outside walk up, was the actual basement they used for storage. This one, the one that he and John had painstakingly walled off, was just for Stiles.

There was a functioning restroom (tiny, with a narrow shower and a toilet shoved in a corner), a rarely used washer and dryer, an armoire full of sheets, a mini-fridge, and a free standing sink.

It was his heat safe room.

Stiles set the bags of food and cleaning supplies down, rolled up his sleeves, and set to work. He started with plugging in the appliances and then set about to febreze the place aggressively. The sheets in the cabinet smelled like stale air, so he tossed them in the washer. The detergent he used was hypoallegoric, which was only needed because Stiles’ nose would be crazy sensitive and it had virtually no scent.

He worked the plastic cover on top the mattress, before wiping down the entire frame. Stiles moved onto to the floor next, sweeping and mopping before unrolling the rugs from where they were resting up against the wall and placing them about the floor. Stiles had done all of this after his last heat, but it never hurt to double check everything is clean. Especially because for the first time the Delta wouldn’t be spending it alone.

By the time he heard the front door open, Stiles had cleaned the entire room, restocked the fridge with vitamin infused water, high calorie foods that were pre-packed and premade, and flexible icepacks for the tiny freezer to help keep him cooled. He was in the middle of fighting the fitted sheet on top of the mattress when Derek appeared, tugging the opposite corner that kept popping loose into place.

“I didn’t know this place existed.” The Beta said, voice faux casual. Stiles smiled as he pulled the top sheet over with a flourish, feeling a strange sense of amusement as it floated down like a ghost.

“That’s the point,” he explained as they began to tuck the edges in, “this is my heat room. We made it when I turned twelve.”

The explanation probably wasn’t needed as it had to be pretty clear what the room was for, but still Derek’s hands stuttered as they smoothed the fabric. Stiles hid his smile behind the pillow as he slid the pillowcase on. It was encouraging to think that this was affecting Derek as much as it was him.

“You still have a week, right?”

“Yeah,” four days give or take according to his calendar, “but with the full moon tomorrow it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Derek looked fairly alarmed. “You don’t think it will be triggered?”

“It hasn’t before,” Stiles said with a frown, “but with the moon and the way I want you, I dunno.”  The Delta froze at his own words, cheeks flushing heavily. Stiles let out an awkward little laugh, turning and busying himself folding towels on top the dryer. “So we figured we’d hole up here tomorrow night. Just in case.”

Behind him, Derek had gone completely still, eyes hungry and intense. “Sounds like a plan.”

And _god_ , the last time the teenager had heard that tone, Derek’s fingers had been knuckle deep inside him. The air grew thicker around them and Stiles shook slightly with want, the oversenstiness of core making him feel himself growing wet more keenly, and pushed the towels away. He had to get out - away. His father was just upstairs, for god's sake!

“I need to check on dinner and-” he turned and found Derek had come halfway around the bed, standing at the foot. Stiles swallowed, squirming slightly, hyperaware of the bed - and what would be taking place on it very soon - between them and how the air around them had grown thick with the sudden bloom of arousal. “Yeah, uh, what was I saying?”

“Dinner.”

“Biscuits.” Stiles nearly shouted, taking wide steps around the older wolf, as if too afraid of what would happen if he stepped with arm reach. “I need to put biscuits in.”

And then he shamelessly fled the room.

Compared to the insanity of the last full moon, this one was absolutely painless and outside of the fact that it was Jackson’s first turning, it was actually fairly boring. Scott yawned as he scratched at his hairy chin before pulling a coke can out of the fridge. It was strange, after how violent his first moon was, how calm this was one and he was beginning to understand how it was he’d never noticed what Stiles was for so long. While he still felt a little edgy (the Beta would give anything to be out running and playing in the woods again) mainly Scott just felt calmer, like – like everything finally fit, as if being human was the odd thing and now he was finally right. And in the safety of the house they were hidden from the sight of the hunters and if the Alpha showed up, there would be little chance at catching them by surprise. Not if John and Deaton – who’d camped out on the roof with binoculars, bottles of magic mojo (Deaton wouldn’t tell them what was in them, just that they really shouldn’t touch it), and a full set of silver bullets – had anything to say about it.

So despite the fact they all had a severe case of the fidgets, it was the best place for them to be.

He opened the can, taking a deep sip as he leaned on the open framed entryway from the kitchen to the den, and observed his pack. Derek was in his armchair with Stiles on the floor between his legs, his friend’s head tilted to the right, resting on a large thigh with the Beta’s hand was pressed against the side of his neck, covering the exposed skin. Scott hadn’t been surprised by what Stiles had told him about him and Derek’s future together. At how fast everything was moving, hell yeah. But not that it was happening itself. It had been pretty clear once Derek Hale had shown up that the two were caught up in each other’s pull. Jackson was sprawled onto the couch, eyes glowing blue in the darkness as he watched the movie, looking slightly bored.

Unlike himself, who had been almost completely overwhelmed by everything when he’d first turned, Jackson seemed to be breezing through everything. Maybe it wasn’t super surprising as control had been a center aspect of Jackson’s life. He was a perfectionist at a lot of things; academics, sports and fitness, his dietary habits.

How well Jackson was taking the Change was probably a good thing, but that didn’t mean that Scott wasn’t jealous as _shit_ , especially when he’d struggled so much at first with being a wolf. Jackson had just sort of gone with it, as if it was a natural development instead of a sudden cross-species change. John had said that it was different for everyone and that he, like Scott, had struggled with his new abilities. That helped a little bit, but Scott still felt slightly irritated by it all.

Behind him, the microwave beeped and Scott turned to take the popcorn out. As he finished shaking the last of it out of the bag, Scott grinned as Jackson’s scent filled the small kitchen seconds before a pair of warm arms slid around his waist. A kiss was pressed against the point of his ear, the whiskers of Jackson’s chops tickling the soft skin.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Scott responded as his body was turned, allowing the blond to pull their hips flush together. He accepted a warm kiss, arms curling around Jackson trunk, sighing into the contact as it deepened. Their tongues played gently, stroking and probing, but they pulled away before it could escalate further - John's warning was still clear. Scott rested his forehead against Jackson’s shoulder, inhaling his boyfriend’s scent. All at once he felt terribly guilty for his jealousy. Jackson had been more than wonderful, if not a touch possessive – not that Scott really minded, honestly – since they’d gotten together.

He never once hid Scott from the school despite the fact that half their peers had taken the news of everyone’s favorite power couple breaking up badly (and _why_ the hell was that any of their business, anyway? This didn’t affect their lives at all!) nor his parents, who were incredibly, oddly pleased. Jackson said they thought it was the reason he’d been ‘acting out’ and putting so much pressure on himself and ensured him repeatedly and quite vocally that they loved and accepted him regardless of who he was attracted to. He’d even chosen Scott over Danny to the younger wolf's great guilt – he’d _never_ have asked Jax to, but Danny was so angry about everything.

Scott tightened his grip, nuzzling in even closer.

“You okay, Scottie?” Jackson asked, concerned as he brought hand up to cup at the back of his neck, fingers tangling in his curls.

“I’m just really glad you’re my boyfriend.” Scott murmured softly, pressing a kiss against Jackson’s pulse point. “I’m sorry about Danny.”

“Don’t worry about him,” came the dismissive response, “I know Danny. He’ll come around eventually, probably buy me something to apologize for being a dick.”

“I just…want to be worth it. I know wasn’t much before the bite-”

“You’re worth it. You’ve always been worth it, even before the bite.”

Scott leaned back against the counter, looking up at the blond beseechingly. “Then why did it take so long for us to get here, Jackson? I thought you hated me. You gave me a swirly, for christsake.”

Jackson looked away, wolfish features drawn in the picture of guilt and discomfort. “…my parents almost got a divorce right after yours did. I wasn’t doing really good in school or sports. I just...didn’t really want to do anything except stay at home and play with my toys. They were talking about holding me back a year again and – my parents used to fight about me a lot. And one night they got into this big one – you could hear it throughout the whole house. They said some really evil shit. My mom…she told my dad that he was a worthless piece of shit, not even a real man, and maybe if he could have given her a real baby they wouldn’t have a failure for a son. He screamed back that he hadn’t even wanted to adopt in the first place. I’d come downstairs because I couldn’t sleep and – yeah, there I was. The look on their faces when they realized I heard everything. I thought – I dunno what I thought. That if I was perfect enough they’d want me.”

“Jax-”

“Hey, it’s cool.” Jackson interrupted, “I went through _years_ of therapy because of that night. Everyone did. I mean, I was still angry. Still kinda am. And I can’t just stop hearing what they said. And bi, gay, whatever I am, that’s not perfect. It wasn’t going to give my mom her grandkids. So that was a problem for me and Scott,” his hands squeezed Scott’s hips gently, “you were my first crush.”

“When?”

“First grade.”

Scott shook his head, robbed of speech and reached out, locking both hands behind the blond’s neck and pulled. The kiss they exchanged was so gentle that his heart almost ached with it. When they broke apart again they were both slightly breathless.

“I never thought I’d hear you open up like.” Scott admitted softly.

“I do what I need to keep what I want.” Another light kiss. “And I want you.”

“Jesus, you two are so sweet it’s repulsive.” Stiles interrupted with a snort, causing the two of them to jump away from each other. He gave them a wink before strolling past them to pick up the popcorn. “You’re missing the movie, you know.” He pointed the bowl at them threateningly, “I’m not rewinding it, so you’ll just have to-”

The backdoor to the house slammed open, sending them all into high alert, Derek skidding into the room about the same time John appeared in the hall doorway. The Sheriff’s face was drawn, lips pale, eyes dark and undeniably locked on Jackson.

“Dad?” Stiles asked nervously, “what’s wrong?”

“Lydia Martin’s in the ER. She’s been bit. Her date didn’t make it.”

It wasn’t until late Tuesday night that they were able to visit Lydia. It involved no small amount of sneaking – and a blatant lie and following abuse of Melissa’s powers – to get it done. Deaton and John was already there when the four of them piled into the small room. They both looked grave.

“She’s rejecting the bite,” Stiles whispered, heart sinking as he leaned into the comforting heat of his soon to be mate. Derek wrapped a supporting arm around his waist, face troubled as he stared at the unmoving girl. Jackson stood completely still, as if carved from stone, as he stared at his ex-girlfriend and the Delta felt both for him. And for Scott, who stood by his side looking equally distressed. Knowing his sensitive friend, the brunet Beta would probably find some way to blame himself for all of this.

“No,” Deaton said with a sigh. “If she’d rejected it, she would have already died. No, her body is neither rejecting nor accepting it. It's resisting it.”

“I’ve never heard of anything like that.” John confessed, a heavy frown on his face. “Derek?”

“No, never.” Derek said, sounding equally confused.

“That’s because most everyone who receives the bite is completely human.” Deaton said as he crossed his arms. “But sometimes, rarely given how few supernatural beings there actually are, that is not the case.”

“Like with me.” Jackson said, voice dark.

“Like with you.” The loud sound of his father’s cellphone interrupted them and John excused himself to the hallway. “You contained the virus already inside of you due to your mixed heritage and as such when you were bitten, the strain on your system was extreme.”

“Do you think Lydia had wolf in her family, too?” Stiles asked, reaching out to gently lay a hand on the still girl’s leg. “The chances of this happening again is kinda crazy – unless maybe that’s why the Alpha bit them?”

“He could be targeting humans with mixed heritage to turn," Deaton said with slowly, "but that follows the assumption that the Alpha is capable of choosing. He may just simply be rabid.” The Emissary sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his bald head. “But regardless, Ms. Martin is not a wolf. Whatever she has in her genetics – and there are more species that can successfully crossbreed with humans then you may first suspect – it’s strong enough to try and fight it off.”

“Lydia’s never shown any signs of anything like that,” Jackson said, voice flat, “she’s been my best friend for nine years. I would have noticed.”

“Neither did you, before you were bitten.” Deaton pointed out. “Whatever her heritage is, it would have most likely remained completely dormant if she hadn’t been bit. But the bite changes a person on the genetic level. If she survives, Ms. Martin may no longer be human. Or she may be completely normal.”

“If she survives.” And there was a definite wobble to Jackson’s voice now and Scott reached out, taking his boyfriend’s hand and if you had told Stiles a year ago that he’d see Jackson Whittemore cling to another person – much less Scott – he would have laughed in their face. But there it was.

“I can’t tell you what her chances are without knowing what she is,” Deaton said gently, but he held up a rather sizeable chunk of strawberry blonde hair. “However, there are things I can do to try and narrow down the options. I most likely won’t know in time to help her through this, but at the very least I may be able to help her cope if she no longer remains human.”

The door behind them opened as John slipped back in and Stiles felt his stomach drop at the look on his face. _Oh no,_ he thought as he tightened his grip on Derek’s hand, _not again._

“John?” Deaton questioned when his father’s silence only grew.

“Derek," John said slowly, eyes troubled when he glanced up, "the Care facility just called. Peter’s missing.”

Derek’s hand was ripped from his own and the Beta gone before Stiles had even registered the words, John sprinting after him with a shout of his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Peter.
> 
> Anywho, I hope everyone was believable in this chapter. The Sterek and Jackscott. I'm trying to keep everyone true to their personalities and ages. But I admit I haven't been a teenager for a long time.
> 
> You guys like? Please drop me a kudo or a comment, your guys responses really get me going. Thanks so much for reading!


	20. Alpha, Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What is it? What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, voice sharp, a hand shooting out to open the door, while the other slid protectively over his boyfriend's exposed back.
> 
> Scott let out a sound of distress. “The front door’s open.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let the beginning of the end begin.
> 
> Un-betaed for now.

**February 14, 2011 - Wednesday**

The house was silent with most the pack either at school or out helping search. His father was with his men, scouring the woods for any sign of Peter. The only sounds were their steady breathing and the occasional discontented growls that tumbled form Derek’s chest. Stiles was curled around him, the bigger spoon despite the fact that the Delta’s form was considerably less then Derek’s. Another rumbling, embittered growl echoed through the room and Stiles scooted even closer, pressing a kiss against the back of his neck. Peter’s disappearance had utterly devastated Derek and Stiles shivered as he remembered the strength of his reaction to the news.

_The snarl Derek had let out sent Stiles heart leaping to his throat, eyes wide in alarm as the Beta shot down the hallway. John was on him almost instantly, bodily pinning him against the wall, a forearm pressing against his chest._

_“Let me go!”_

_“No! Damn’t, Derek, listen-”_

_“I’ll kill them! I’ll fucking-”_

_“I said listen,” his father growled, the threatening timber of his voice making the remaining wolves jump slightly and in front of John, Derek went completely still. “The Argents have nothing to do with this. No - listen damn’t - they don’t.” John snarled, putting even more pressure on the angry wolf to keep him still. “The Care has security cameras everywhere. The only person who’d been in and out of your Uncle’s room was his nurse. No visitors even came today. There was no signs of struggle, no broken windows; nothing on any of the grounds cameras. He’s just – he’s just gone. I’m sorry.”_

_Stiles could visibly see the fight drain out of Derek. "He’s all I have left.”_

_John let out a sigh, pulling the younger wolf forward and tucking him against his frame like his father had always done with him and Scott when they’d been scared as kids. Derek melted into the touch, dipping his forehead until it rested on John’s shoulder._

_The Sheriff curled a gentle hand across his nape, tutting slightly. “You have us. You’ll always have us.”_

They should be out looking with everyone else but instead they were locked away in Stiles' heat room, forced to depend on the others. If Stiles had been in Derek's place and his dad had been missing – well, nothing in the world could have kept him waiting on the side lines. But Derek was doing it.

For Stiles.

The cramping that had been haunting him all week had faded away, replaced instead by anxiety, the feeling of being pushed to his limit; as if Stiles was a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. His heat was about to start, tonight most likely, early tomorrow at the latest and Stiles’ instincts were going haywire. He had woken around four in the morning, feeling utterly vunerable in the familiar comfort of his room. Body on autopilot, Stiles had trekked down to the heat room and the moment he stepped inside the small, low ceiling room the overexposure had faded and the wolf could literally feel the weight of discomfort lift from his shoulders. Almost immediately, he began to obsessively check that everything was in order despite the knowledge that he’d restocked everything and scrubbed the room clean himself only the day before.

When Derek had appeared in the doorway around five-thirty, Stiles had already re-cleaned the shower and toilet, reorganized the mini-fridge, coated the floor surrounding the bed with soft padded comforters and flannel blankets, and was in the process of laying (and relaying, if he was completely honest) pillows about to create a massive nest with the mattress and boxsprings at the center of it. Stiles didn’t even notice that the Beta was there until Derek had joined him on the ground, yanking pillows about as he began to line the hard cement walls around the bed with them. Stiles had started, a thick blush on his face, but his soon-to-be mate ignored his embarrassment and set about making his own improvements to the den. To _their_ den.

The closer Stiles got to his heat beginning the more the Delta fell prey to his instincts and while he was desperately worried about Peter, all he wanted was to stay locked away in his nice, warm den with the wonderful smelling male at his side. There was no way Stiles could join in on the search like this, no matter how badly he wanted to.

Derek also seemed on the edge; the older wolf’s eyes had been blue since his arrival, his ears drawing together in a delicate point. He was never more than an arm’s reach away from Stiles and he’d actually caught Derek herding him back to the bed the few times the younger wolf had tried to leave it, insisting on fetching whatever he needed from the mini-fridge even though it was only like five steps away. It was terribly amusing (especially the bright pink blush Derek had taken the first time they’d both realized he was doing it at the same time) but also incredibly endearing and made something inside Stiles hum happily.

But it was also frustrating and made him feel completely helpless. Stiles wanted to be out there helping look – or at the very least be capable of letting Derek go and look – but it was an impossibility.

Eventually they’d settled on the bed, curled around each other, and spent most the day in strained, worried silence. Derek’s hands seemed to have developed an obsession with Stiles’ stomach; rubbing gentle circles on it with his palm, tracing indistinguishable words and patterns with his fingertips, brushing his knuckles over the slight concave.

John arrived home around seven for a shit, shower, and shave before heading out, pausing at the entryway of the door for only a few moments before leaving. Stiles kept in constant contact with Scott – and Jackson, who had been a dick about it until a bluntly worried text _(im worried about u asshole answer i need to know u are safe)_ had opened a firm line of communication between them as well. Both would be playing in the game tonight – at Derek’s insistence, no less – to draw less attention to Stiles' absence and the Delta spent most of his time assuring a guilty Scott it was cool and discussing what he remembered of the last time they’d played Woodford High with Jackson.

It wasn’t the wonderful or romantic experience that he’d been expecting, with both of them so worried about Peter and wishing they could be out there looking, and Stiles tried not to feel as if something had been stolen from him. What did it matter if this heat was tainted by Peter being missing? He was still getting Derek.

But still…

Honestly, it was all far more casual and relaxed than Stiles ever thought it could be, considering what they’d be doing in the next few hours. A part of him wondered if it should be more awkward or if he should be freaking out more. After all, soon he’d not only be losing his virginity but be bonded as well. And yet everything was just…calm, the air between them free from any tension or stress save for Peter's absence. Maybe the crisis at hand was keeping him from freaking out?

Eventually Stiles had drifted off, lulled by Derek’s rich scent and the feel of warm hands on him. He didn’t know how long he slept but he woke with a jolt, eyes wide with the realization that Derek was no longer in the room. The Delta jerked up, hands fisting the comforter that had been draped around him in alarm. His scent was still fairly fresh; the Beta couldn’t have been gone for long. Stiles’ eyes darted around the room, as if he could have just missed Derek somehow despite the room being tiny. And then he froze, his breath a sudden weight in his chest.

The door was open.

The wolf climbed slowly off the bed, feet utterly silent as he made his way across the padded floor. He paused at the steps, shifting nervously from foot to foot as he gripped at the ends of the oversized t-shirt he wore. He wanted to call out to Derek – to make his mate come back – but instinct kept his voice silent. Everything inside him was telling him not to leave the den; to go back and hide himself amongst the blankets that smelled like him and his mate – but Stiles forced himself to remain at the door. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe Derek had gone up to get something or…or maybe his dad had come home early. Maybe – maybe they’d found Peter.

That thought had him up moving up the stairs determinedly, fighting to ignore the growing feeling of panic in his chest as he ventured out of the heat room. The house was completely silent and Stiles kept his movements just as quiet as he made his way cautiously into the living room.

Where was Derek?

A horrible thought hit him all at once. What if he’d changed his mind? What if he decided he didn’t want some teenager as his mate and – the whimper that escaped him echoed ominously throughout the house and Stiles winced, slapping a hand over his mouth.

A voice cut the air, bold and strong and utterly feminine. “Aw, scared puppy?”

Stiles spun around, teeth bared in threat, claws already at the ready – only to stutter to a complete stop. Three hunters – Kate Argent and her goonies that had been at the Hale house – stood in his living room, armed to the teeth and looking utterly pleased with themselves. And they had Derek.

The older wolf was on his knees, arms pulled painfully backwards from where he was bound wrists to ankles, a dirty rag wrapped around his face as a gag, bleeding heavily and looking dazed and confused. Stiles snarled, furious at the sight, and immediately burst into hacking coughs.

Kate snorted, gesturing to a small air diffuser that was plugged into the wall. “You like it? My sister-in-law may be a bitch but she knows how to kill monsters.” The diffuser pulsed again and Stiles felt his lungs contract painfully. “Wolfsbane. Can’t even smell it, can you? Oh, but it’s there. Been going for a solid three hours, puppy. Air’s saturated. ”

He backed away weakly, feeling his vision beginning to blacken around the edges. Stiles wasn’t sure how he ended up on his side. One moment the world had been swirling counter-clockwise and the next he was down. Long strings of purple tinted rope appeared in his limiting field of vision.

Wolfsbane, his mind hazily recognized, wolfsbane rope.

The moment it touched his skin, Stiles howled, the sound frail and choked and only brought more of the tainted air into his system. There was an answering growl, just as weak, from Derek and somehow Stiles managed to tilt his head towards him. Derek looked furious – and frightened – blue eyes devastated as he struggled weakly against the hunter holding him down. He struggled, snapping weakly at the hands that were tying the gag around his face as he kept his eyes on Derek.

This was it.

Stiles knew it was.

They were going to die.

Somehow he managed to scrape out the very last of his strength to escape the continuous attempts to stuff the gag in his mouth. Stiles had to…had to tell him. If they were gonna die he wanted him to know…to know that he…

“Derek,” he wheezed, but it was too much, all too much and Stiles felt his body go limp as his vision dimmed.

_I love you._

Derek’s agonized cry seemed to follow him into the dark.

Allison stared at her ceiling, half her body hanging off her bed from how she was laying on it so haphazardly, and tried to work through what she was feeling. Her parents had let her stay home, her mother hovering more than normal – which, really, should have been impossible with how much of it she did already – after they’d received the call about Lydia.

With everything that had happened (Scott dropping her and then hooking up with Jackson, Danny’s depression and resulting moodiness) Lydia had been the only constant in her new life. The red head handled the crazy with the same cool collectiveness that she did everything, only letting her vulnerability show late at night when they were both illegally on their cell phones, whispering their feelings in the dark.

Lydia was, without a doubt, her best friend here.

And now she’d almost died.

Allison forced herself to take a deep breath. She was strong. She was capable. She was a Argent, she had a spine of silver. And yet Allison had never felt so afraid, so out of her depth before. The worst of it was that she’d been on her way to meet up with Lydia to catch a movie with her and her date. Allison had been first on the scene and had been the one to call 911. If she’d shown up just a few moments earlier maybe she could have somehow saved Lydia.

Or maybe she’d be in the hospital.

Or dead.

Allison shuddered, squeezing her eyes against the memory of what that poor boy – and shit, she didn’t even know his name – had looked like twisted and torn apart. There was a trio of melodious raps against her bedroom door.

“Hey, kiddo.” Allison propped her head up enough to see her aunt standing in the doorway, duffle bag in hand. Kate was several years younger than her dad and she always seemed just…younger, more alive _._ Kate always had time to talk to her and never spoke down to her, never treated her like a little kid. Not like her parents did. “You okay?”

“Maybe I should be asking you that.” Allison quipped before letting her head fall back against the mattress. “Look like you got in a fight with your hairbrush.”

And she did. Normally, Kate Argent always looked like she stepped out of a fashion magazine. Everything from her hair to her make up to her outfit was perfectly staged. But today she looked ruffled, her hair slightly mussed and her fashion scarf tilted off kilter.

“Ah, yeah. Had to change a tire, got a little physical.”

Allison frowned up at her ceiling, “Again?” Her aunt had just had a flat tire when she’d come to town; Allison had even heard her father get up to go help her.

The look Kate gave her was blank for a long moment, and then she gave her a sheepish grin. “I need to stay off my phone, I guess. Not paying enough attention to the pot holes. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be at the game? I thought you were looking forward to it.”

“I’m not going.” Allison said, shrinking into herself slightly.

“These have anything to do with what happened to Lydia?” Kate asked gently, settling on the bed next to her, finger nails gently prying through Allison’s tangled hair .

“Yeah,” Allison admitted softly. “It’s just,” she rolled on her stomach before pushing up to sit so she could face her aunt better. “I hate it here. Living in this town is like living in a goddamn horror movie, everyone is dying left and right and afraid to go outside or be alone. It’s like…totally _unreal_ and I hate it. Lydia, she’s my only friend, and – and I can’t do anything to help her. Something just – just hurt her and it makes me so mad! If I’d gotten there earlier maybe I could have helped.” Allison blinked hard against tears. “When I got there, I could feel it still watching me. I know that sounds stupid, but I swear I could! And I knew, I _knew_ that it was deciding about whether or not it was gonna attack me," mountain lion her ass, this thing has felt intelligent, "and I felt–”

“Like prey.” Kate interrupted with an understanding frown.

Allison laughed, tugging at the end of her braid. “I was going to say weak, but yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Her aunt reached out, gently brushing her hair from her cheek. “Look, Alli, I’ve got to go handle some work, but when I come back we’re going to talk about this some more, okay?”

 “Thanks, Aunt Kate.”

“Any time, hunny. I mean it – when I get back, we’re going to have a long talk, alright? Maybe we can come up with some ways for you to feel less weak. I mean, you're an Argent. You have an arsenal in your garage, you don’t need to be walking around scared for shit’s sake.”

Allison sighed, picking at her cuticle in annoyance, “Dad doesn’t want me to take anything off property. He just wants me to stay in my bedroom. Forever.”

“Oh sweetie,” Kate said with a smile that was all edges and teeth, “you leave Chris to me.”

Allison laughed and nodded, a grateful smile on her face as Kate leaned in to give her a kiss on the cheek. This was why her aunt was awesome; her parents never wanted to talk about what was happening around here, it was like they just wanted her to pretend nothing was wrong. But Kate, Kate always took the time to hear her out, always took her seriously and right now, Allison needed that more than anything in her life.

Because something was happening in Beacon Hills – something much more than just a mountain lion – and Allison Argent would be damned if she was going to be caught unprepared again.

They’d won the game, but damned if you’d know it from the atmosphere in the Porsche. By his side, Scott was looking utterly miserable as he fiddled with his seat belt, bottom lip caught between his teeth. Jackson sighed as he pulled into the gas station and parked.

“Hey,” he said as he reached over, sliding a hand over his boyfriend’s neck in a gentle caress, “it’ll be alright. We’ll find him.”

“But what if we don’t? Or what if we do and the Alpha is with him?” Scott let out a weary sound, “if I lose control again-”

“You won’t.” Jackson interrupted firmly. “You fought him off last time. You’ll just do it again.”

“And if I can't?"

"You will."

"Aren’t you worried that he’ll do it to you?”

“No,” he said simply as he opened the door and he wasn't worried about that. Jackson believed enough in his own mental fortitude to be able to fight off some overgrown, crazed wolf. Scott looked less convinced and Jackson sighed as he dug out his wallet. “Look, if it happens you’d bring me back, right?”

“…yeah,” Scott said slowly, “of course I would.”

“Then I don’t have anything to worry about, do I?” Jackson pushed a twenty into his hand. “Why don’t you get us something to drink. We’ll need to rehydrate before we go to Stilinskis’.” 

Unlike last night they weren’t joining the Sheriff as ‘volunteens’ to help search for Hale’s uncle, though his parents thought he and the entire lacrosse team was helping before crashing at the Sheriff’s house. Instead, they’d been assigned to guard Stiles during his ‘heat.’ Jackson wasn’t one hundred percent sure what that all entailed as every time he'd asked Scott, he'd become so embarrassed he could barely could form a sentence. But the blond figured that if they were canines than a ‘heat’ was probably an actual heat.

He’d get Stilinski or Hale to explain it to him just what that all meant later.

Jackson brought a hand up to rub at his forehead, nose wrinkling against the prevalent gasoline smell that made his enhanced sinuses ache. A quick glance revealed Scott still in the store, seemingly torn between a blue Gatorade and a light blue one, face serious. Jackson rolled his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips as he pumped gas. Scott was unexpectedly perfect, fitting into his life like a puzzle piece that he hadn't known he was missing.

He’d been interested in dating Scott before he turned and now Jackson was pretty sure he was more than just 'interested.' He didn’t just want to date Scott, he wanted to own him. Wanted that big, goofy smile only for him, wanted those soft eyes to look only at him, wanted that voice to moan only for him. Jackson felt a shiver run down his spin and settle in his cock as he remembered that night.

God, sex with McCall had been –

_‘I think I love you.’_

– so much more than just sex. For the first time in his life, Jackson Whittemore felt like he’d made love to someone, however pansy assed that sounded. In that moment, knotted deep inside his new packmate and smelling how their scents combined to become something new, Jackson knew he was fucked. Completely and utterly fucked. Because he knew – even before Stiles had started talking about ‘bonds’ and ‘mates’ – that nothing in his life would ever feel right unless he was spent and buried balls deep inside Scott.

“Nice ride, son.”

Jackson jolted from his thoughts, barely keeping a snarl off his face at the sight of Chris Argent fueling up at the next pump up. The new Beta gave him a short nod, turning to rehitch the gas nozzle, using the motion to cover the worried way his eyes flew to find Scott. Scott, who was completely and utterly terrified of Chris Argent, and damn if that whole thing didn't make more sense now.

Jackson felt his breath catch at the sight of his boy standing in line, oblivious to the two hunters standing behind him. He recognized them only because the Argents lived a street over and Jackson often saw the various characters they had coming and going when he went running. And he’d seen both men loading fucking _guns_ into Chris’ trunk before. Jesus, they were so close to him and –

_‘I think I love you.’_

“That’s…Scott…right?” Jackson stiffened, turning to find that Argent had advanced until he was standing just in front of his hood, running his hand over it. “My daughter – Allison? You know her? – she’s told me a lot about you. A lot about you both. Gotta say, I’m surprised to see that you played with your girlfriend in such serious condition.”

“I saw Lydia last night,” Jackson said coolly, feeling something ugly and dark roll around inside him. The shift was just under his skin, ready to be unleashed, but he carefully pulled it back - tucked it away somewhere far removed. He couldn't loose his cool, not here. Not with Scott surrounded. “And you must not talk to your daughter that much. Lydia broke up with me.”

“Yeah.” Argent said slowly, bending his knuckles and rapping them on the hood. His ring – an ugly, gaudy silver crest like thing –  made a loud noise against the paint. “Come to think of it, Allison did mention that. She broke up with you, in front of the whole school, must have been embarrassing. ”

The urge to get Chris away and gone before Scott came back out was overwhelming and Jackson had to fist his hands to keep from doing something stupid. The idea of this hunter anywhere near his boy made him furious. “Going someplace with this, old man?”

“She humiliates you, emasculates you, goes on and dates – what’s his name?” Argent waved his hand as if in thought and then snapped his fingers loudly, “Kyle Evans. He beat you out for all American, right? That had to hurt.”

“Do you have a point?” Jackson snarled, feeling his heart lurch as Scott approached the cashier only to have one of Argent’s men tap him on the shoulder, handing him the twenty he must have dropped before saying something to make him smile widely.

“Just saying. Odd timing. She's dumps you and a few days later, Evans’ dead and Lydia clinging to life.”

“And? They were both attacked by an animal.” Jackson ground out, feeling his iron like control start to slip. The urge to leap forward and rip this fucking assholes throat out was overwhelming. The anger – while more primal – wasn’t really all the different from how he felt most the time and so Jackson was able to keep it back. But only just. To imply he'd ever hurt Lydia was not something he'd ever forgive. “I’m not an animal.”

“I think that depends on your definition of what an animal is.” Chris said coldly, eyes like chipped slate. “My daughter found them, you know. Five minutes earlier and…well. Who knows what could have happened. Do you know what I do for a living?” There was an angry shriek as the human dragged his ring across the metal and Jackson felt his lip curl at the desecration of his property. “I kill animals.”

Scott was out the door at the sound, face worried as he made his way across the parking lot.

“That’s nice.” Jackson said, voice level. “You want to know what my parents do?” He pointed at the mounted camera above them. “They’re ligation lawyers. And they’re gonna love you.”

Scott was on them now and he went pale at the sight of Argent, but to Jackson’s surprise the other wolf’s eyes hardened, crossing the remaining distance in a few, powerful steps before coming to stand at Jackson’s side. “Everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine.” Argent said with an easy smile, “good job on the field today, boys.”

Jackson watched him go, eyes narrowing as his two lackeys climbed into the back of the truck. He didn't even look away after they'd driven out of sight. A warm arm slid around his waist and Jackson startled at the touch, tearing his eyes away from where the truck turned. Scott gave him a nervous smile that had the hard stone of fury in his stomach softening. The blond turned, facing his boyfriend completely before pulling him into a wet, deep kiss, hands running over Scott’s form as if to reassure himself everything was in still in place, that he was unharmed. Scott sighed happily against the contact, leaning into the touches. It was as if the brunet had never been touched, the way he always seemed to bloom under Jackson’s hands. Not that he minded. They kissed lazily for a moment before pulling away.

“What was that for?” Scott asked breathlessly, the smile on his face soft and easy now, fingers looped through the taller teen’s belts loops.

Jackson leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, letting his locked hands settled just over the toned rise of his ass. “I need a reason?”

Scott was quiet for a long moment, his hands tracing the pattern of his belt. Then, “they know, don’t they?”

“Yeah.” He murmured, inhaling the scent of his boy deeply, basking in his warm presence by his side. It was almost startling, how strong the drive to protect Scott was. Jackson had always been possessive; sharing was not his thing. But this – this was different. He’d even struggled not ripping apart their opponents every time they blocked his Scott.

And Argent and his men…they’d been so close to him. They’d _touched_ him. 

_‘I think I love you.’_

“…just stay close to me, okay?” And Jackson would deny the uneven crack in his voice until the day he died. Scott’s eyes softened even further, leaning forward to nuzzle his chin. Jackson let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, heart fluttering pleasantly, and despite how odd the act was, he found himself tilting his head and nuzzling back.

Scott pulled away, blushing slightly and looking so fuckable Jackson felt his cock twitch in hungry interest. He leaned down and caught those swollen lips, hands cupping his boyfriend’s lush ass and spreading the cheeks wide. If they hadn’t been in public, Jackson would have sought out that tight little pucker that had become the source of every jerk off session since he’d first wet his dick in it. His boy let out a whine as the move pulled their hips flushed against each other, their dicks unraveling against each other’s. Scott pulled away, breath quick little puffs against his lips. He tried to speak, but Jackson made to claim his mouth again . The younger Beta whined, pushing against his chest, and he reluctantly pulled away.

“We need to get to Stiles.” Getting to Stilinski was the last thing on his mind, but Scott was giving him those fucking _eyes_ again, “Jax, we promised.”

With a sigh he pulled away, opening the passenger door before making his way around the Porsche. He glared at the scratch on his hood, lips peeling back from his teeth in a snarl. It was large and ugly, a violent mark on the paint, and he’d make Argent fucking pay with his teeth. Biting down on another growl _(and Christ, the sounds he made now)_ he slid in and shut the driver’s door with a little more force than usual, staring the car and pulling it out onto the road.

They were only ten minutes or so away from Stiles’ house but it would seem like an eternity with an aching hard cock stuffed so uncomfortably in his jeans. He turned onto the dark, rural road that lead to the Stilinski house, pulling to a stop at a four way intersection – and jerked in surprise. A glance down revealed Scott’s hands gently outlining the thick bulge of his erection.

Rich, chocolate eyes glanced at him coyly, bottom lip caught by white teeth. The hand pressed down, stroking before grabbing his swollen dick wholly. Jackson let out a choked noise, forcing his eyes back to the road. The intersection was still empty and he let his eyes flutter shut as his cock was rocked slightly. The grip paused than loosened and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone filled the small space. His boy was leaning into his space, breath heavy, eyes locked on his crotch. “Will you be able to drive if…if I…”

“Yeah,” Jackson croaked, hands gripping the steering wheel so hard it creaked under the pressure. He let out a muted groan at the feel of a calloused hand gentling his aching cock from his jeans. The hand ran up the length carefully, as if too sooth, and Jackson felt pleasure burst hotly across his skin. It took every inch he had to keep his eyes on the road and keep his car straight and speed level. A second hand joined its twin as Scott ducked down, resting his arms on the rest, his hot breath fanning over his sensitive skin. Fingers toyed with his head, pulling his slit open as a pearl of precum formed.

Jackson swallowed harshly, forcing himself to take deep breathes to try and control his rapid breathing. Scott had been a virgin. He knew Scott had been a virgin. But Jackson would be _damned_ if Scott acted like one. It was like – _holyfucking_ fuck _fuck._ The sound that left him couldn’t even be described as anything else but a whine as a swipe of pure wet heat splashed across the head of his cock. Scott was lapping at the precum, catching it before it could drip down his length.   

 _“Scott.”_ He managed, voice hoarse as he fought the urge to roll his hips up.

They were less than five minutes from Stiles’ but Jackson was suddenly afraid he wouldn’t make it before he came. Scott’s mouth was sloppy, unpracticed, but the blond had never felt anything so perfect in his life. The kitten licks increased in number and length, Scott’s head dipping lower and lower as he traced over every vein, every inch of skin he could reach. He was going to come, he was going to come fucking hard and soon, quicker than he had in years.

The Stilinski house _(finally)_ came into sight and Jackson turned into it sharply, throwing the Porsche in park so quickly it stumbled before stalling. He immediately looked down, chest heaving, as he watched Scott pull back up, tongue obscenely pink as it traced up his cock. “Scott, fuck, baby.”

His boy glanced up at him, eyes dark and heady, as he sucked his cockhead between his lips. Jackson cursed, head slamming back against the head rest. He couldn’t control the way his hips snapped up into the wet heat. It was so rough that for a second Jackson was afraid he’d hurt his inexperienced lover, but he had nothing to be fear.

Because Scott apparently had no gag reflex.

His boyfriend  let out a sound of surprise before going with the move, sinking down, down, _down,_ until Jackson was completely encased in the warm glove of his throat, Scott’s lips stretched wide over the swell of his knot. Jackson cried out, the sound strangled and broken as it escaped his clenched teeth, and came hard. His balls drew up, hips pumping as he flooded his boy with his cum. He came so much more - an unreal, stupid amount - since he’d been turned but he doubted Scott tasted any of it, Jackson was so far down his throat.

The spasms finally came to an end and Jackson collapsed back against his seat, chest heaving. Scott pulled up, careful to clean his cock of any sperm that escaped, his tongue almost too much on his oversensitive skin, before putting him away. Jackson stared at him dumbly as his boyfriend settled back into his seat, running his thumb over his swollen lips.

“Was it good?” Jackson opened his mouth before shutting it, settling for nodding instead. Scott smiled at him shyly. “I was kinda nervous, I've never done it before.”

“It was fucking perfect.” The blond said, reaching over and entangling his hand in Scott’s hair. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” Scott said softly, “I like making you feel good.”

In his chest, Jackson’s heart beat almost painfully.

_‘I think I love you.’_

He yanked the other Beta forward until he was settled awkwardly on his lap. Porsches weren’t known for their space and the driver’s seat was meant for one, but Jackson still managed to free Scott’s angry prick and jerk him as they made out. It didn’t take long – a few pumps, a few flicks to his swollen head - and Scott was coming apart against him, his cum soaking into Jackson’s sweatshirt.

In the aftermath they laid boneless against each other, his boy’s breath a hot staccato against his skin. Jackson wrapped his arms possessively around firm muscles, stubbornly tugging him even closer as he buried his face in sweaty hair and inhaled the perfectness of their mixed scent.

“Jax,” Scott sighed, pressing into him, “I love you.”

Jackson shuddered, biting down harshly onto the smooth skin of Scott’s neck. The brunet yipped in surprise, before going completely limp and submissive. He pulled away after a moment, eyes locked on the bruised skin in greedy satisfaction.

Above him Scott went completely still, muscles tensed as he straightened and stared through the windshield behind them.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Jackson asked, voice sharp, a hand shooting out to open the door, while the other slid protectively over his boyfriend's exposed back.

Scott let out a sound of distress. “The front door’s open.”  

Stiles woke to heat. He let out a groan, hips twisting in an attempt to ease the throbbing need in his lowers. Instinctively he reached to sooth with his hands only to find them jerked back harshly. He stared up at them in confusion, blue eyes hazy with need, and tried to make sense of the stinging rope and dulled silver manacles that kept his hands pinned to the wall above him.

And then everything came back.

Stiles whined, scrambling to try and stand only to fall forward, crying out as the manacles halted his fall and yanked his shoulders back painfully. His feet were bound together at the ankles with that horrible purple rope and he was forced to rest all his weight awkwardly on the side of his left foot as he struggled to find his balance again.

“Stiles.” His name was a low rumble, gravelly and painful sounding and Stiles’ head snapped to the side, eyes widening in horror at the sight of Derek strung up, feet above the ground, to a metal frame. The Beta’s face was a picture of guilt as he stared at him.

Stiles shuddered against the swell of lust in his stomach at the sound and scent of him. His body didn’t care if they were captured by a group of hunters, all it cared about was that there was a more than viable mate nearby. This could literally not get any worse. “What happened?”

Derek looked away, shame-faced. “I heard a noise. When I went to check they maced me with wolfsbane.” He glanced back up, eyes blazing, “Stiles, I’m sor-”

“Don’t,” the Delta interrupted, squirming as he tried to get comfortable before deciding that crouching was his best bet and perched awkwardly on his bound feet. Everything hurt. Everything was uncomfortable.  “Derek-”

“I can get out us out,” he interrupted and Stiles tried to ignore the desperation that laced it.

“You better make it quick then.” He said bitterly, feeling his heart already begin to beat quicker and his insides twist, and he flexed his hands in their bindings, staring at them darkly. “Because in about a half hour the only thing either one of us is going to care about is getting you inside me.”

There was a sharp inhale.

Once his heat hit, Derek's rut wouldn't be far behind and the two of them would be almost completely useless, stuck in a primal mindset that relied on the raw strength and power that had been taken from them. They'd be able to think or plan, but not the full on concentration and focus they would need here. They would be more similar to their wolf ancestors than ever before, driven desperate and beastly by each other, by the perfection they would make together. Stiles let out a low groan, hips reflexively grinding down against his heels. He was horny already and it was going to get so much worse. His cock was already half hard, his pussy aching as the opening clenched and unclenched, the scent of his slick beginning to color the air. Without his hands, his heat was going to be unbearable and - “God, I won’t survive it,” he breathed out, voice strained in horror.

“Don’t say that.” Derek snapped and it was sharp and angry in a way the Delta had never heard before. The Beta fisted his hands as he pulled uselessly at the silver manacles that held him up. Stiles watched him for a moment, entrapped, eyes following the beads of sweat that trailed down the well-defined physique, before closing his eyes so he wouldn’t have to see the tempting wonder that was Derek Hale.

“Derek, stop," Stiles' eyes snapped back open in alarm as the scent of burnt skin filled the air, "you’re just hurting yourself!" But if anything, his words only seemed to drive Derek to fight even harder, his skin blackening with silver irritation at a worrying rate. Stiles begged him for a few moments more before letting his protests tamper off. He was probably going to die in the next few hours. Honestly, the fact that he was still alive was the most startling thing of all. He had been so sure, when he'd been back at home, that he was dying. Well. He wasn't going to waste this chance. “I love you.”

The struggles ceased immediately, the sudden silence filling the air. Stiles let his eyes drift back to Derek, meeting the stunned stare head on.

“I think I’ve loved you from the moment you saved me in the woods. Everything happened so fast between us and I know I'm just a kid, but…” He licked his lips, ignoring the way his hot saliva felt like a burn on his chapped lips. “I know, just…just _inside_ me that you’re it for me; you’re my mate. I…I want to fill that house with you so bad I can’t stand it.” It wasn’t until he’d choked on the last word that Stiles realized he was a hair’s breadth away from sobbing. “I just need you to know that, okay? That its more than just biology for me. If I die – I love you so _fucking much.”_

Derek let out a low whine, a deeply wounded sound that made everything inside the younger wolf react and for a moment even his rising heat fell away under the need to care for his mate. Stiles tugged at his bindings, pulling his arms to their absolute limit as he struggled to be closer to him, whimpering at the sight of Derek straining just as hard to meet him; every muscle outlined and quivering.

He was unsure how long this madness went on; the both of them struggling against their bindings, against their reality, but that was how Kate found them when she returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter is going to be long, so it may take me a bit to get it out. Probably a week or two at the most.
> 
> Did you guys like? Any favorite parts? Parts you all didn't like? Questions? Concerns? 
> 
> ....
> 
> I've had a lot of candy today.
> 
> Added AN: The last chapter is pretty long. Would you rather have it in two shorter parts (quicker upload) or all at once (which will be longer)?


	21. Alpha, Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He wanted him to calm down? Scott snarled at his boyfriend, gesturing about them widely. “My best friend is missing!” He slammed his fist into the trunk again, voice rising to a pained shout. “Hunters have them. Fucking god, Kate Argent is fucking crazy and oh god, they’re dead and-”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to break it into two or else it would've been really, really long. Here's the first part at 10 pages. I'm working on the last part. This has a sequel and I've already got the first chapter outlined, so yeah.
> 
> Un-betaed.

**February 15th, 2011 – Thursday**

“God damn’t! Where the hell are they?” Scott snarled, slamming his fist into a tree trunk with enough force that it sent a series of sticks and leaves falling. They’d been searching everywhere all night and most of the morning and exhaustion was starting to take its toll. “We’ve looked everywhere this doesn’t – this doesn’t make any sense!”

“Calm down,” Jackson said, voice level.

He wanted him to _calm down?_ Scott snarled at his boyfriend, gesturing about them widely. “My best friend is missing!” He slammed his fist into the trunk again, voice rising to a pained shout. “Hunters have them. Fucking god, Kate Argent is _fucking crazy_ and oh god, they’re _dead_ and-” He hit the tree again.

“Scottie, calm down.”

Scott ignored him, hitting the tree again, leaving an intensely deep dent in the wood and smearing it with his blood, “you don’t understand! These fuckers shot me with a crossbow! They’ll kill them! They’ll kill them and -”

He found himself pressed roughly against Jackson’s chest, arms pinned between them. “I said _calm down,”_ his boyfriend said sharply, leaning down to press a kiss to the bloody and torn skin of his knuckles. “We’ll find them.”

“I can’t…Jackson, _I can’t_. Stiles is my brother, I can’t lose him. It’ll kill me…it’ll kill John.” Scott choked, voice pained. The arms around him tightened.

“We’ll find him.”

Scott only shook his head. He knew the chances of finding Stiles and Derek alive dwindled the longer the hunters had them and no matter how hard he or Jackson or John searched, they couldn’t find wherever it was Kate had taken them. Her scent had led out of the house and into the driveway, but then it was lost under the cruel scents of a stink bomb they’d set to cover their tracks.

John was fanatically searching the town while the two younger Betas were methodically going through every mile of the reserve, determined to find their missing packmates. God, the look on John’s face when they’d told him Stiles was missing. Scott had never seen such a look on anyone’s face before and he never wanted to again. He knew that the Sheriff had never completely recovered from losing his mate; what would happen to the man he loved as father if Stiles died?

“Hey,” lips brushed against his forehead, “we don’t know anything yet. Try to stay positive, okay?”

Scott sank into the embrace, burrowing his face into his boyfriend’s shoulder. He couldn’t imagine a world without Stiles. That it was even an option was literally one that didn’t even register in Scott’s darkest thoughts; it was a impossibility. They were always supposed to be together. Batman and Robin. Together forever. He was supposed to be Uncle Scott, blood in everything but name. The thought that he may never see Stiles again – see his best friend, his brother – was making everything inside him ache like he had a physical wound.

“If they’re dead, I’m going to kill them. All of them.” Scott’s voice was murderous, but somehow very calm and he was filled with a strange sort of cold certainty. The old anger from his childhood was rearing its ugly head, filling him with dark promises of what would happen to Kate Argent and her men if Stiles was dead. What would happen if Derek was dead, because Stiles would never be okay again if he was.

“Alright.” Jackson’s voice was low. A thumb brushed over the swell of his cheek. “Alright. I won’t stop you. I’ll even help. Stiles might be an idiot but he doesn’t deserve this.”

Scott pressed a grateful kiss to his boyfriend’s lips before pulling away. “Come on, we need to finish checking the west reserve before we meet up with John.”

School was strange without Lydia. Allison sighed as she shut her locker, glancing down the hallway to where her friend’s was located. A lot of students hadn’t come to school at all and those who had walked around in a tense kind of silence. The entire school was on edge. Danny wasn’t in school and neither were Scott or Jackson. Stiles wasn’t in, nor was her lab partner. Allison didn’t realize just how much she’d come to depend on Lydia and Danny until they were both gone. It hit her rather suddenly that they were her only friends. Lunch was going to be a quiet, lonely affair, with nothing but her thoughts and memories of that night to keep her company. Still. She could handle it. No use crying over what was. Allison straightened her shoulders, tucking her books against her hip and began to make her way to the cafeteria.

Whispers followed her.

Everyone knew that Allison had been the one to find them and the newspaper had been disturbingly honest in their description on how Kyle had died. She turned down B hallway, intent on keeping her eyes focused on the poster at the end of the walkway and nothing else, but paused at the sight of a heavily decorated locker. The floor length locker had been covered in paper, notes and signatures scribbled on it, pictures glue and taped onto it. A grouping of flowers had been left at the base of it.

It was Kyle Evans’ locker.

Allison swallowed, trying and failing to keep the image of Kyle lying limp and pale, his intestines loose and wrapped around his arms and neck like bizarre rope. A tall teen stood by it, pinning something to the handle. He was enormous; far taller than most teens with a thick trunk and broad shoulders, well-muscled arms that were wide enough that his t-shirt seemed to actually be strained across them. His hair was short in a buzz cut and that, coupled with the familiar strong line of his jaw, brought his name to mind.

_Vernon Boyd._

She’d seen him with the other members of the JROTC when they’d drilled in the back parking lot. Allison had also seen him with Kyle. A lot. She swallowed, reaching out an accepting the marker as it was offered. She approached the locker, hesitating about what to say, before simply writing _‘I’m Sorry. – Allison.’_ The brunette blinked hard against the sudden wash of tears, swallowing harshly before turning and handing the marker back to Vernon.

“You’re…Vernon, right?”

“Close enough.” The response was paired with a small, pained smile. At her questioning look, he clarified. “I go by Boyd.”

Absently, Allison wondered if that was because of the military thing.

“Ah. Got it.” She cleared her throat awkwardly before glancing down at where her hands were clasped around her books and notebooks, the supplies held in front of her like a shield. “You and Kyle…you guys were close, right?”

The response, “…kinda,” came slowly. Boyd reached out and brushed his thumb over the rank insignia he’d pinned to the locker. Dark eyes turned back to stare at her, intense and deeply sad and so very, very lonely. “We were close one, when we were younger and we still hung out but…high school.”

He didn’t need to explain anymore. Boyd was a loner and Kyle was…had…been one of the most popular students in the school. So yeah.

High school.

“How’s Lydia?”

Allison shrugged and fought to keep her voice level. “She’s stable but she won’t wake up. The doctors don’t know if she will.” And then, because she had to express this to someone, “everyone keeps asking me really stupid questions about what I saw and Lydia.”

Boyd snorted. “Yeah, they ask me stupid questions about Kyle, too. Sensitivity isn’t BH’s strong point.”

A silence filled the air between them but unlike the ones that had filled Allison’s day it wasn’t awkward or pitying. They had both lost a friend – but no. Allison refused to believe that, to believe that Lydia wasn’t going to wake up. The silence grew, stretched, and then Boyd turned to leave.

“Wait!” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop herself. She blushed when he turned back, startled. Allison licked her lips and thought of the empty lunch table. She really didn’t want to be alone and out of everyone in the school, Boyd was probably the one who could come even remotely close to understanding what she felt. At the very least, he wouldn’t ask any dumb questions. “Do you want to eat lunch together?”

He shoved a hand in his pocket, head cocked to the side as he stared down at her. “Sure you want to do that? People like you don’t usually want to eat lunch with people with me.”

It was true that Boyd usually ate alone. He was from the poorer side of town and was always working so he didn’t really spend time with anyone, didn’t have any money to play in sports or clubs or go out. What was worse, he worked at both major teenage hangouts at Beacon Hills and usually ended up waiting on his school mates, which seemed to be an excuse for why people treated him like shit. It was an unfair reality that poverty often equaled unpopularity in high schools, especially one that catered to so many of the upper middle class like Beacon Hills. Allison had been to enough schools to know that cliques were passing things and probably the least important thing about high school.

“I don’t think we know each other well enough to start labeling. But I’d like to fix that. Come on, what could it hurt?” Those dark eyes – and they were kind of incredible, a deep brown that seemed almost sable – observed her with a strange weariness, looking old and tired and cautious. “I’ll buy you a brownie.”

The lunch lady’s brownies were legendary.

Boyd’s lips curved into a smile and for a moment Allison was slightly taken a back at how transformative it was to his face. He held up two fingers in a ‘V’. “Two brownies.”

Allison laughed, looping her free arm through Boyd’s, dragging him towards the cafeteria. “Boyd, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

“Is this the part where we go strolling off merrily into the fog?”

“You’ve seen Casablanca!”

The smile was a little bigger, a little wider, “I like old movies.”

“Me, too! But I can’t get anyone to ever watch them with me. Lydia can’t stand black and white.”

Boyd tched. “Philistine.”

“What’s your favorite movie?” Allison asked, feeling lighter than she’d been all day at the prospect of talking about one of her favorite things. Allison really, really liked old movies. There was a charm, a beauty to them that was missing in modern movies. Actors back then didn’t have CG or Photoshop. They had to act from the heart, with only skill and talent to guide them. What’s more, most actors could sing, dance, and act. You couldn’t find something like that nowadays.

“Pillow Talk.” Allison almost stumbled, her head snapped around to stare him, trying – and failing – to keep the disgust off her face. Boyd’s smile grew even wider, one full of teeth this time, “I’m kidding. I’m more of a Grace Kelly type of guy.”

Which was good, because if he’d been a Doris fan…well, lonely or not she just couldn’t see how they could be friends. And she said as much. That earned her a laugh and it was beautiful; a light, cheery sound that turned heads as they walked. 

Allison decided immediately that she was going to have to do everything she could to get him to repeat it.

Stiles let out a shaky breath as he pressed the length of his arms against the cool cement wall behind him. It had been hours since Kate left and he still couldn’t bring himself to look at Derek. He’d remember the sight and sound of his mate getting tortured until the end of his days. Derek hung awkwardly off the bars, eyes closed and breath ragged as he slept fitfully, his body struggling to heal the damage the electrocution had caused.

Kate wanted to know where the Alpha was and nothing they could say would convince her that they didn’t know who and where he was. She had hardly touched Stiles in comparison, given him light wacks here and there with a cattle prod, mainly to piss off Derek or try to entice him into talking. It seemed her theory was that Derek had brought the Alpha with him to Beacon Hills and so she appeared to be more willing to believe that Stiles may not know who he was. His body had healed the smarting stings and burns within a few hours.

It couldn’t be healthy that he was using so much energy. Without access to his stash, Stiles was wandering onto very dangerous grounds with his heat. He felt like a candle burning at both ends of the wick. His body was prepping to be bred at the same time he was healing himself. And yet, despite everything that was happening, his heat continued to deepen.

The Delta sighed, squirming as the feel of slick leaking liberally from his pussy. There were no words to explain how badly he wanted to touch himself. Trying to explain heat was an impossibly because there was no way to explain the fierce need, the aching want, the way his heart stuttered and his cunt tingled. He was still in the early stages, desperately wanting but still in command of his thoughts. That would change soon though. The amount of slick he was leaking was beginning to increase, covering his legs and starting to soak the ground below.

Stiles clenched and unclenched the muscles of his channel rhythmically and while it helped dull the worst of the ache it did very little to sate his need. It was endlessly frustrating. The teenager let out a soft whine, bringing his heels underneath him once more. He ground down against them, trying to rock his wanting hole against it. The pleasure of the motion was hampered by the fact that he had to rest his body at an angle to keep the contact and it made the muscles of his thighs and lower back burn. Stiles squeezed his eyes closed, grinding harder, and by pure accident found that he could rub the swell of his knot against the hard pad of his foot.

His actions increased and he was only aware of the vaguest sense of the whore-ish sounds escaping him. He whimpered, falling forward and ignoring the pull on his arms as he rocked his hips wildly. The orgasm fought him but Stiles chased it with everything he had, clinging to the partial contact until he finally came, breath coming out in broken gasps as his hips shook, filling his boxer briefs with cum.

The relief was sweet – but only the most fleeting and temporary of a thing and Stiles whimpered as the need filled him again, even more intense than before. He let out a wrecked sob, hanging from the wall shackles. There was no way he was going to survive this. If dehydration didn’t kill him, Kate would. But either way he was going to die filled with this acute want, this abhorrently lonely feeling of emptiness. He let out another dry sob.

“Stiles?”

Derek was awake.

Slowly he readjusted himself so that he was off his hurting legs and glanced at his restrained mate. The sight that greeted him made him groan. Derek’s entire body was covered in a red blush, eyes blown blue, face hungry. And his cock.

 _Christ,_ Derek’s cock.

It was straining in his sleep pants, tented and obscenely large, the fabric stretched to its limit, the tip of his cockhead almost slipping free of the fly. A large wet spot had formed and when Stiles took a deep breath he could smell the musky, salty scent of his mate’s precum. The sight of it ratcheted up his lust even further and let out a whimper, hanging defeated against the chains.

“Stiles?” Derek repeated, voice worried. “Stiles, talk to me.”

“I can’t do this,” the Delta gasped, sobbing. “I can’t do this, I’ll burn up.”

“Yes, you can. It has to be Thursday already and-”

Stiles let out a bitter laugh. “Derek, it hasn’t even really _started_ yet.”

Silence met his words.

“Talk to me,” Derek said, voice soft. Stiles shook his head, staring at his swollen and angry looking feet in silence. What was the point? He was true and utterly fucked. He was actually going to die a virgin, a few feet away from the man of his dreams. “Come on, talk to me, sweetheart.”

The pet name, the first his mate had ever used with him, coaxed him to speak again. “About what?”

“Anything, everything.” The wolf shifted against his bindings, “just talk to me. How do you want to do the kitchen in the new house? You said you had some ideas.”

Stiles shut his eyes. He wanted it an apple green, with light wood cabinets and granite counter-tops. Wood floors, stainless steel, a gas stove so he could really cook. But it didn’t matter now. It wouldn’t happen and the thought of the house Stiles would never get to live in or fill with his pretty, dark haired babies was almost as painful as the heat.

“I would have named it Noah if it was a boy or a third,” he said instead of answering, voice hoarse, “he’d have your eyes, my nose, my lips.”

Derek was staring at him, blue eyes intense – so, so intense. “What if it’s a girl?”

The tense usage didn’t go unnoticed, but even Derek’s continued certainty they were going to make it out of this alive couldn’t raise the Delta’s spirits. “Evelyn, or maybe Sophia?”

“Sophia. Sophie. Noah and Sophie.” Derek said softly, eyes distant and he knew that the Beta was picturing little pups with Hale coloring and Stilinski features, and he wanted to cry at the perfectness of what he was losing.

“I don’t know,” Chris admitted with a sigh from where he was bent over his car’s engine, hands greasy and stained as he worked aimlessly tuning, “maybe Kate’s right. Maybe it’s time we induct Alli.”

“We agreed to wait until she was eighteen.” Victoria said sharply, blood red nails clinking as she drummed them against the car roof. “We talked about this when she was born. And when she turned nine. And thirteen. We didn’t want her to have the type of childhood we did. So help me, Chris, if she goes over our heads on this I won’t be quiet.”

Victoria never took kindly to anyone undermining him. As the eldest, Chris stood to inherit leadership of their clan but it was their females that were the strategists and lore masters – the true backbone of the clan. His elevation to clan leader would, in a sense, make Victoria the defacto leader. But Kate refused to follow the chain of command, usually treating both of them with a lack of respect that bordered on insubordination.

And what is wife had said was true, they had agreed to wait. Hunting was a volatile lifestyle and neither Victoria or himself had been part of what one would call loving families. Protective, oh yes. Possessive, even. But loving? Very little about Chris’ childhood had been loving. Everything was rules and rituals, things that had dire consequences if they were missed. Everything was fear; a deep primal fear that came from the knowledge that things under your bed existed. And the love he’d received from his parents was measured on a sliding slope; one mistake, one hesitation, and it would all slip away from him.

He hadn’t been like Kate. Chris was passionate about his job. He truly felt a calling to help protect his kind against those that would wish them dead, for pleasure or for survival. Being a Hunter was all he knew. All he wanted to do. But there was a ruthlessness to it, a willingness to overlook their own laws, that often left a bad taste in his mouth and soured the honor of it all. And Chris Argent prided himself on being a man of honor.

So while it forever left him labeled as a weakling in his father’s eyes, Chris played by the ancient rules set down by their fore-bearers. Kate did not always do so. She was adept at toeing the line so closely even Chris wasn’t sure what side she was on. Kate had always excelled at their job, had always won their father’s favor and confidence in a way that he had never managed. The blatant preferential treatment had been hard to take growing up. It was still hard to take now, if he was honest.

So even though Alli didn’t have any siblings, Chris had been more than willing to go along with Victoria’s plan to let Allison have a childhood. But with everything that was happening in Beacon Hills, with the Alpha and werewolf pack killing left and right…Christ, a few minutes earlier and they could have lost their baby. She could be were Lydia was right now.

And Chris just didn’t know if they could afford to give Allison her childhood anymore.

He sighed, pulling up from the engine block to look at his wife, accepting the offered rag with a smile as he thought about how to phrase what he felt. There was the sound of a car pulling into their driveway and Victoria went stiff. A squad car was in their driveway and with it Sheriff Stilinski.

It wasn’t hard to figure out that John Stilinski and his son were werewolves, especially after they’d taken in Derek Hale. Not to mention it seemed like that last Hale was permanently attached to the younger Stilinski’s side. It hadn’t taken long to realize that Scott McCall was a wolf as well – the teenager wasn’t exactly subtle about his powers when he thought he was alone. Jackson Whittemore had also joined the list of pack members as it was pretty clear that he and the McCall boy were a bonded couple. Bonded pairs were easy to spot once you knew what to look for; their body language. The very way they looked at each other gave it away easy enough. None of them appeared to be the Alpha but Chris wasn’t worried. He had them under pretty consistent monitoring. They’d lead him to the Alpha at some point.

John Stilinski walked up the driveway and Victoria casually moved to lean on the work bench, fingering the crossbow that rested there.

“Something I can help you with, Sheriff?” Chris called, moving to the mouth of the garage, keeping his wrench on display in his hand.

“I’m afraid so.” Stilinski’s voice was as neutral as his face, not a dip or waver to tell him what he was thinking. “I need to talk to your sister.”

“Kate’s not here.” Victoria answered, her tone carrying an edge that could cut flesh, “you’ll just have to come back.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “That’s not good enough. She needs to come in for questioning.”

Chris raised an eyebrow, wondering just what the werewolf could have concocted to get his ambitious sister off the streets. Or, conversely, just what Kate had done now. The Sheriff had stayed out of their way once they’d moved here and the few times they had interacted, Stilinski had been polite and cautious, careful to move slowly and to keep all his movements predictable. “What about?”

“It’s about an on-going case, so I’m afraid I can’t speak openly about it.” The Sheriff said, still composed and withdrawn. “However, if she doesn’t report to station by six tonight there will be a warrant issued for her arrest. The highway patrol and the neighboring precincts have been made aware so attempting to run would be a very bad idea.”

Both hunters stiffened, alarmed, and Chris gave him a slow nod. “I’ll try and track her down.”

When the Sheriff failed to move, staring hard at both Argents with that same damingly neutral look, Victoria moved to stand by his side. “Is anything else, Sheriff Stilinski? My husband and I are very busy.”

“Yeah, actually.” And there – a crack in the facade, a flash of angry amber before they faded back to grey. “I know this talking openly thing is something that our kinds don’t really do, but _fuck it,_ I don’t have time play games. Do you have my son?”

The question caught them both off guard and husband and wife exchanged a look. Any parent was dangerous but it was doubly so when it came to werewolves. He could see Victoria analyzing, wondering how to use this to their advantage, but Chris felt this was too delicate a situation to try and use. Allison was just on the other side of the door, watching TV in the great room.

“No.”

“Does your sister?”

“No.” Chris answered levelly. “Listen to my heartbeat, I’m not lying.”

The Sheriff stared at him, eyes hard. “Just because you don’t know about it doesn’t mean it isn’t happening.”

“If my husband says our clan isn’t responsible, then we’re not responsible.” Victoria’s voice was like ice, her hands fisting at her side.

“Yeah. Right.”

“Why don’t you ask your Alpha where he is?”

“Victoria,” Chris snapped, reaching out to physically rein his fuming wife in.

“Because he’s not _my_ Alpha.” Stilinski snarled, lips peeling back, and both hunters tensed. “Despite what kind of archaic shit you believe a pack can be just fine without an Alpha. I haven’t had one in close to twenty years. And even if I wanted one, I wouldn’t follow this asshole. Me and my boy have lived here for eight years and not a damn thing has happened to a human that we were responsible for. Me and half my pack were human before we were wolves; we have human families. We have no urge to hurt anyone. They’re kids, for fuck’s sake.” The Sheriff’s eyes were burning like two bright suns, his fury palatable. “This Alpha is a rogue; an Omega, a mad one at that, and for all I know he followed _you_ into town. Chances are pretty high you’ve killed more people than I have."

“We kill only those who hunt humans.” Chris ground out, “the code-”

“Sell me another one, Argent. You broke the rules once, I have no doubt you’ll do it again.”

“You can’t be talking about the Hale fire,” Victoria said incredulously. “We had nothing to do with that.”

“Yeah, well I got four guys in lock up right now that say otherwise and three of them are yours. Eight people died in the fire; four of them human and three of them were under eight.”

Chris went completely still, the hand gripping the wrench tightening until it was painful. “Who?”

“Bennett, Unger, and a real asshole named Reddick.” The Sheriff took a threatening step forward. “All we wanted to do was live quietly, in peace. I just wanted to raise my kid, get my pack – because they’re _children_ – through high school, and do my job. But your kind just couldn’t leave us alone, could you?”

Stilinski voice was so deep with aggression he sounded like a different person and Chris could see the change rippling across his features.

“Mark my words, Argent. If my son dies because of your sister’s actions, intentionally or otherwise, so will your daughter."

"My daughter is an innocent in this."

 _"So is my son."_ Stilinski snarled, eyes dark. "You want a war? I will give you a war. I will reach out to every pack I know and I will bring them _all_ down on you.”

And then he was gone, storming down the driveway and nearly wrenching the car door off the frame as he climbed inside his cruiser. Chris watched him drive off, mouth a thin line. A mix of dread and foreboding was churning in his stomach, but it was outweighed by the pure amount of fucking fury he was feeling. If Kate was responsible for the Hale fire – if she’d dishonored the Argent named so utterly – and gone so far over his head, Chris would make her pay. Doubly so if she’d taken Stiles Stilinski.

They did not, under any circumstances, kill children.

“If she starts a war, I will take Allison and I will leave.” Victoria’s face was lined with anger, her determination clear. “She is not worth my daughter.”

Chris threw the wrench down with a loud curse. “Call everybody. I want Kate found.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that's my Allison pairing.
> 
> Boyd got the freaken shaft in the show, which is a shame because his character had a lot of depth to offer. Same thing with Erica. 
> 
> Also don't fuck with John's babies.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Your kudos and comments really help me get inspired. I should have the last part of this chapter out very soon, I'm writing it now.


	22. Alpha, Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The woods were odd tonight. The creeping holds of evening had just begun to reach across the trees, but everything seemed darker and far too quiet. From where he stood, the coyote – a male, still young but mature, a shy taller than average and bulky – glanced at the bush line nervously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're guys response to the last chapter was absolutely amazing and I hope you're not disappointed by this last chapter. It has quite a few POV changes, which is not my usual.
> 
> Parts of Peter's speech are taken from the show.

**February 15th, 2011 – Thursday**

There were a handful of moments that defined John Stilinski’s life. The day he found out his brother had died in Vietnam. The day he lost his humanity. The day he met Claudia Connell. The day he lost her. The day he first held the squirming, shrieking form of his son in his hands, so small and vulnerable. In that moment, as he had pressed his face against the warm, tiny form and scented the pure essences of  _Stiles_  for the first time, John had known that he would do everything in his power to care for him, to protect him. To make sure he knew how much he was loved and how special he was.

John let out a choked sound, pulling his cruiser to the side as he pressed his forehead to the steering wheel. God,  _Stiles._ Someone had stolen his baby, stolen him from the safety of their own home, under the best protection John could give Stiles outside of himself; Derek Hale. And John feared for the surly Beta that had wormed his way so deeply and easily into his heart almost as much as he did for Stiles. Because he knew that there was no way that Derek would have let them take Stiles without a fight. His poor baby boy. He must be so deep in his heat by now.

_Those fucking monsters._

The idea of his son, his baby, captured and struggling as he baked through his heat was utterly devastating. Stiles was always paranoid during his heat, craving closed spaces and the safety of familiarity, snapping even at John should he dare to venture to close to him. He must be so scared.

John had meant every word of what he said to the Argents. If Stiles or Derek were dead, John would make every one of those heartless sonuvabitches pay. But in all honesty, much of what he had said had also been a bluff.  There was an incredible danger to being without an Alpha and John had worked hard to keep them under the radar and far away from other werewolf communities. John didn’t know any other packs, though he knew the most basic of ways to attempt to make contact with others. But even if he succeeded in reaching another pack, there was no way to tell if those that responded would come to help or kill them all.  

He knew that he couldn’t fight the Argents alone. To do so was as good as a suicide mission and if the worst should happen and Stiles was...he was still responsible for Scott. Scott was as much his son as Stiles, and he couldn’t just abandon him or Jackson. And even if his boys were unharmed it was clear that the hunters were becoming too dangerous, they had the advantage not only in numbers but weaponry. There was only one option, one half baked idea that had a very real chance of blowing up in his face.

Talking a deep breath, the wolf pulled himself together roughly, wiping at his watering eyes before ticking his turn signal on and merged back onto the road as headed towards the northern part of town. Beacon Hills was home to another pack, a coyote pack, and they were John’s best bet. It was a bit of a gamble as the coyotes were strange, secretive, and jingoists by nature. They avoided wolves whenever possible, keeping long swatches of open distance between the Stilinski territory and there own, miles of open land before the scent markers for their own boundaries could even be picked up. It was natural, most likely due to the fact that wolves sat higher up on the predator hierarchy. But while wolves were naturally stronger, coyotes were incredibly fast,  dangerous in groups and rarely alone.

All John could hope was that the fear of a common enemy – of the hunters – would be enough to coax the coyotes into involvement. With Adrian Harris coming forward, fearful enough of the Alpha to barter information about the Hale fire in exchange for protective custody, John had a real chance to push back against the Argents. Hopefully he could put enough of those bastards behind jail as possible that it would entice the coyotes into alliance and he could convince them they had enough of an edge to make it worth their the risk.

John would follow every rule and etiquette he knew in his approach, would be polite and deferential, would make it the coyotes' game. The Beta still doubted that they would be happy to see him on their land. 

Stiles was on _fire._

A near constant whine was escaping him, the sound stuttering with each grasping breath. The Delta squirmed in discomfort, shifting repeatedly as he struggled against the awkward position of his bindings. He was covered in sweat, his clothing sticking to him like a disgusting second skin, the crotch of his boxer-briefs and sleep pants were completely sodden.

His cock was hard enough that it could probably cut steel, the flesh swollen past tenderness to pain, the foreskin peeled away to leave his sore glands to the cruel touch of the fabric of his boxer-briefs. His cunt ached and Stiles could feel how puffy and distended his lips were, could feel how wet his hole was. He was still grinding down at his heels, trying to coax out another orgasm but it seemed an impossibility. No amount of fleeting touches against his knot or awkward half brushes against his core could bring him off.

It was hell in its truest form.

Across the room, Derek seemed in just as rough shape. The Beta’s cock was turgid and thick, head red and ceaselessly weeping from where it had finally slipped free, jutting angrily towards the ceiling. His eyes were glowing so brightly they seemed artificial, hips rolling as he thrust ever so slightly into nothing and Stiles followed each move, eyes locked on each bob and twitch of Derek’s cock.

Derek was talking to him, voice a low rumble and words slurred as he waded even deeper into his rut, “…so warm inside you, Stiles, so fucking warm. Felt s’good around my fingers, you’d feel so good around my cock, so perfect. Gonna fuck you so hard – so hard, fill you up and up until I knot you, plug you up, fill you up with my come.”

“Derek,” Stiles groaned, whimpering, grinding down even harder, “Derek, _please-”_

“Fill you up, cause you’re….you’re mine and – and fuck, you smell s’good, Stiles. S’good. Gonna smell so good covered in me.” Derek’s cock was twitching, shuddering, and Stiles watched transfixed as a pearl of precum visibly swelled before breaking, drooling down from the tip to the ground below and he wanted nothing more in the world then to chase after it – lap it up until all he could taste and smell was Derek. “Gonna watch you swell up with my baby, watch you stretch around my pup until you’re bursting. Fuck, knew from the first moment I smelt you-”

“Derek!” Stiles cried out, almost desperate to make those terrible, beautiful words stop – they were too much, _too much,_ when he couldn’t touch and yet he never wanted his mate to stop talking.

“– you were mine. Mine. My Delta. Should have taken you in the woods – _knew_ you were mine. Knew you were. Dream ‘bout takin’ you. Dream about fucking you, splitting you up with my knot, watch your pretty face when I – when I _–_ you want that, you want that don’t you, Stiles?”

 _“Yes!”_ Stiles cried, yanking so hard against his bindings he felt his wrists dislocate with a nasty _‘pop,’_ his body jerking forward in a pointless attempt to get to his mate. “Need you,” Stiles whined, shuddering as a fresh wave of slick left him in a rush, “need you, _needyouneedyounee-”_

The sound of footsteps on paved stone in front of them, paired with the angry rise and falls of Kate Argent’s voice, brought a brief respite from the heat madness, the danger and horror attached to it sending a harsh dose of reality through the both of them.

“I don’t give a shit, Wilco, if you have to fucking drill call him you do it.” Kate snapped from the other end of the tunnel as she advanced, “fucking piece of shit Unger was supposed to be here. I want him here.”

There was the sound of feet stomping towards them and two pairs of fierce, angry growls erupted as a far too familiar blonde appeared in the doorway.

“Hey, doggies miss…me…what the actual fuck?” The hunter’s face was completely stunned as she took in their desperate forms, expression twisting against the pungent smell of cum and musk that filled the room.

“Je- _sus,”_ her lackey said with a groan as he made his way into the room, a hand flapping in front of his face, “it smells like a fucking whore house in here. What the – put that shit away, man!”

“Shut up, Wilco.” Kate said with a frown, walking a semi-circle around them both. “I always knew you were a kinky fuck, Derek, but even for you this is…”

The hunter faded off, falling completely silent, eyes locked on the floor by Stiles feet. The Delta glanced down, paling at the sight of slick slowly trailing down his calf to join a small but growing puddle on the ground. Kate stared for a long moment and Stiles felt his stomach sink somewhere below his knees as her eyes went wide and wicked, the smile on her face taking a decidedly manic edge.

“You’re a breeder; a fucking pussy boy, holy shit. I didn't think you were a real thing."

Stiles winced at the term, shrinking back from the blonde woman as she stalked nearer, her man falling in step behind, keeping his shotgun trained on Derek. Stiles snarled, all sharp teeth and fangs, but it tapered off into a choked growl as the business end of a cattle prod was slammed into his side. Behind him, Derek made a truly unholy sound, lunging to the edges of his restraints as Stiles stumbled backwards, stunned and twitching as electricity jolted across his left side.

“Behave.” Kate warned them both, raising the prod again, ready to strike and Derek’s snarls abruptly stopped, his face twisted with both hatred and fury. She kept the prod an inch away from the teen’s tender neck as she drew a knife to cut his bottoms along the seam. Stiles slammed his eyes shut as his pajamas and boxer-briefs fell away, teeth grit as fingers followed the slick trail up his inner thighs.

At the first less than subtle probe between his legs the room was filled with the sharp sound of metal grinding against cement as Derek threw himself forward with enough strength to cause the reinforced gates to shake in their setting.

“Get the fuck away from him, Kate. Get the _fuck_ away from him. I’ll rip your goddamn head off, you piece of shit, _get your fucking hands off him!”_

“You sick fuck,” the blonde breathed as she pulled her hand away, staring at the slick on it, “you actually want to mate this trannie.” She shook her head in disgust and Stiles had never felt so small, so vulnerable in his life. “I can’t believe you’re an actual, real thing.” She gave a harsh laugh before turning on her heel and stalking towards the tunnel entryway. “Keep an eye on them. I've got to make a call."

Wilco erupted into a series of sputters. "What, right now? Who?"

"My father." Kate said with a sharp smile, "and yes, right now. Do you have any idea how long he's been looking for one of these?”

The woods were odd tonight. The creeping holds of evening had just begun to reach across the woods but everything seemed darker and far too quiet. From where he stood, the coyote – a male, still young but mature, a shy taller than average and bulky – glanced at the bush line nervously.

There was a pitched, questioning yip by his side. The coyote next to him was not like him. It was more than just that it was of a different sex or that its coat wasn’t the same mix of dusky tans and rich browns as his own. She did not belong to the trickster and so it was harder for him to understand her, but the male didn’t have to strain himself too much to know what she was saying. He’d found her when he’d been out exploring, the lone female watching him wearily before finally giving into his requests for play. But now she was still by his side, tail low.

Something wasn’t right and he wasn't the only feeling it.

He was far outside his territory and god knew only what kind of bad things would happen if he was found out here, but the young coyote couldn’t resist sneaking off every now and then to explore the reserve. Still if he was out any longer, his sire was undoubtedly going to notice and then there would be hell to pay. The male tensed, a familiar scent catching his attention as it floated by on the breeze. He let out a low whine, prancing slightly between his front feet before glancing back the way he had come from. He should leave it, should go home. The affairs of wolves was no place for coyotes. But that smell, it was wrapped in hurt and fear and  _heat_. He couldn’t just leave.

The coyote bounded forward, the female staring after him as if he was mad, head low and tail flat out behind him until he formed one graceful, lean line of muscle and fur, determined to find out where that scent was coming from. Just to check. That's all.

He owed Stiles at least that much.

Stiles had always been beautiful.

Derek had acknowledged that from the first moment he’d met him that night on the reserve. It was a hard thing to miss. The Delta had stood before him, bare chest white in the moon light, making the soft pink of his nipples - harden and perked in the cold - stand out even more. Perfect teeth had pulled at perfectly full lips as startled eyes stared up at him, framed by impossibly long, thick lashes. His features were almost delicate, too feminine to be handsome, too much of a masculine edge to be classified as pretty, but still wholly gorgeous. He'd been so nervous, so frightened, and it had pulled at every protective instinct Derek had. And his _scent._ He’d never smelt anything even remotely like Stiles’ scent. It was a soft smell, heady and fertile and filled Derek like warmth personified. 

So yes, Stiles had always been beautiful.

But in heat he was _stunning._

It was hard to think. Why was it was so hard to think? Derek had been told that rut was like this, he even had memories of seeing his own father in its thralls, but he’d had no idea it would be like this. How could he? How could he have imagined that something like this could exist? It was as if every inch of Derek was focused on Stiles, his entire being hyper aware of the teenager's every move, every thought help captive. He should be worried about the fact that they were being held hostage – that the reason why he couldn’t sate their lusts was because they’d been captured by a mass murderer. But instead he found himself lost in fantasy of how perfect his little mate would feel wrapped around his cock. Everything was about Stiles.

Everything.

Even from where he was strung up, Derek’s enhanced senses ensured he missed none of the show Stiles was presenting him. His eyes followed every stream of slick that slid down firm thighs, watched as it caused silken skin to shine. He watched, greedy and obsessed, at each sluggish drip of precum that escaped his mate’s needy cock. His ears were trained on every whimper and whine that escaped Stiles, listening to every stuttering thump of his heartbeat. His hands ached to still the desperate tilt and grind of Stiles’ hips, to pin down the Delta and hold him close until there was no way to tell where their bodies began and ended.

His Delta, his little mate, flushed and wet and open just for him. Only for him. Only for Derek.

Derek’s cock ached, his heartbeat pulsing in the strained muscle, his balls drawn tight and high to his body with need. Nothing in the Beta’s life had ever felt like this before, nothing ever compared to the driving want he had to dip into that warm wetness, to drive deep until his head was stopped by Stiles’ cervix and his knot locked against Stiles’ cunt. Every orgasm of his life until that moment had been an utter waste, a flagrant and callous abuse of his seed. His cum was never supposed to be spilled anywhere else but inside his mate, Derek knew that now.

His perfect, beautiful little mate with his kind eyes and caring words and…and…

Derek let out a growl of frustration, feeling tears prick at the edge of his eyes as he watched Stiles whine for him. This was so wrong. Everything was wrong. Stiles was in pain. He should be wrapped up in warmth, safe in their den and stuffed with Derek’s cock. Why weren’t they there? Why wasn’t –

“Christ on a cracker.” The hunter, Wilco, swore loudly, breaking the running nonsense of his rut tinted mind, “you ever seen anything like this before?”

“Yep,” and that was Kate Argent. Fucking Kate Argent who was the bane of Derek’s existence, popping the ‘p’ as she finished off her Arby’s sandwich and coke. “Little fuckers go into heat, triggers a rut, and before you know it – you get this porno. They’re even more mindless than they were before. Good way to trap, actually, if you can manage to grab one the other will always come running.”

The hunter stood, stretching as she licked her lips fingers and made her way over to her clansmen. Derek snarled a warning as the blonde bitch drew near the teenager, who was too far gone to even realize he was being cornered, laying limp and blank eyed against his chains. _Dehydration,_ his mind whispered and even in his foggy thoughts Derek could recognize the danger his mate was in.

Kate shook her head, clearly disgusting, before grinding the steel tip of her boot into Stiles’ bare erection, lips curling in amusement as Stiles’ hips shoot forward with pained whine of release. Even a cruel touch was welcomed so far into his heat. Wilco gave a shriek as the cum coated his jeans, dancing away one legged as he tried to shake it off. The scent of his mate’s fresh cum caused a violent reaction in Derek, his gut clenching as his own orgasm – weak and unfulfilling – was forced from him. Kate nearly fell over laughing at both of them and Derek had never wanted anyone dead so much in his life. Not even when he’d realized what had happened to his pack.

The hunter made her way to Derek, staring up into his bright blue eyes, face that same mask of gentle that had once made him think he was so in love with her. What a fool he’d been.

“Can you understand me, hunny-bun? No, no. Don’t speak.” She said sharply, “just nod.”

He only glared at her, but that seemed enough.

“You were gonna mate with that little bitty boy over there, weren’t you?” She reached out, ignoring Wilco’s disgusted sound as she ran her hand over Derek’s swollen and knot heavy cock. “You fucking pedophile. You were gonna fuck that little boy until he gave you lots of itty-bitty little puppies, start building up that Hale name again.” She gripped his cock and twisted it painfully, smirking at the cry of pain that escaped him. “Well, let me just say that it is a true honor and privilege for me to take that away from you a second time.”

Derek snarled, every teeth on display, “g’t’hell.”

“Impressive,” Kate said with a laugh, “I could almost understand that. Oh, calm down,” she snapped, slapping his abs with the cattle prod, watching as the muscles danced random and wild under the influence of the electricity. “I’m not gonna kill your boy toy. Oh no, baby, I’m going to take real good care of Stiles, keep him wet and wanting as proof for my old man. Then – I dunno. Even I can admit my dad’s pretty fucked up.”

Derek tensed. Gerarld Argent. The thought of that monster anywhere near his Stiles was –

“Maybe he’ll kill him, maybe he’ll keep him alive and cut him open to see how he ticks. Maybe he’ll let ya fuck him so he can watch your pup grow in him, dunno. Dad’s always loved dissecting shit. We’ve already got a couple of preserved puppies somewhere and-”

Derek shot forward, ignoring the shrieking pain in his wrists and ankles as he tested the bonds holding him for the umpteenth time, straining with all his might to close the distance between the hunter and himself. God, to think he was chained up in his childhood moon room, against the very cage where he’d spent his first few moons, watching as the bitch who killed his family took everything from him again. It was too surreal for his rut filled mind to grasp.

Kate tisked at him, standing just inches out of his reach. “Keep that up and I won’t let you have a front row seat to the Gerarld show.”

She ran the uncharged cattle prod up the thick muscles of Derek’s thigh, up to his hips, down his groin until it was running up and down the length of the werewolf’s swollen cock in an almost caresses and the Beta had to fight off bile as his lust-blind body responded to it.

“You know, I can make this easy for you. Just tell me where the Alpha is and I promise, I’ll make everything better. I’ll kill you both before he gets here. A much better fate than what my daddy has planned, I promise. Think about it, I think I’m being terribly fair here.” She dug the prod in harder, watching as precum leaked in increasing volume at the touch, his hips jolting forward in aborted little thrusts. “Come on, big boy, give mama what she wants. Where’s the Alpha hiding? Where is he?”

The answer came from behind her.

“Right here.”

Kate swung around, cattle prod raised in defense even as her hand flew to her gun holster, gaping at the sight of Andrew Wilco’s headless body slowly sinking to its knees.

“Y-You!”

Peter Hale’s smile was dark, lips curving wide to reveal a set of angry looking teeth.

“Me.”

Derek watched in stunned silence, mind startled back to complete coherency at the sight of his whole and functioning uncle slowly but methodically pulling Kate apart from jaw to naval, the hunter’s screams shrill and painful before tapering off into a disgruntled gurgle as her rib cage was ripped open, her heart still beating in Peter’s hand as he let her drop to the ground. The Alpha stared at it, face distant and eyes remote. Derek couldn’t believe what he was seeing – it had to be a byproduct of the torture and the rut – but no. He was real, his uncle was there.

“Peter?”

“Hello, Derek.”

“You’re the Alpha?” No. No, _goddamn’t_ , it couldn’t be true! “You killed Laura?”

“You really think I killed her on purpose?” Peter said quietly, tossing Kate Argent’s heart away like the piece of trash it was, “a member of my own family? Laura was like my own pup. I was there when she first spoke, first took a step. My mind, my personality, were literally _burned_ out of me.” The Alpha brought a hand up to his face, finger tips tracing over the newly healed face. “I was being driven by pure instinct; by the call and pull of the moon. I could hardly control myself.”

Derek gnashed his teeth, lips pulling back, and found it hard to believe that Peter could have ever been so lost as to kill someone he claimed to love like a daughter. “What, you want forgiveness?”

“I want understanding.” Peter stated darkly. “Do you have any idea what it was like for me during those years? Slowly healing cell by cell, even more slowly coming back to consciousness? Yes, becoming an Alpha – taking that from Laura – pushed me over a plateau in the healing process.” The Alpha let out a soft sigh as he turned from him, “I can’t help that.”

Peter took a few steps into the room, fingers running over old furniture and broken toys. The moon room was set deep into the ground, reachable only by a long tunnel that was carved out of the hill. The majority of the room was open space, painted by the light filtered through the open air gate the consumed most of its ceiling, while the back half of it contained a silver cage. It was where they put packmembers that couldn’t control their change due to age or injury during full moons. It had been one Derek’s favorite playrooms once and he knew his uncle was thinking of his own children –of Andrew and Ellie – playing there as well.

“All those humans I killed? They took part in killing our family. I had to do it.” Peter swung around to look at him, eyes earnest. “Please, Derek, give me a chance to explain. We're family, after all. We're all we have left.”

The Beta stared at him, doing his best not to give away the panic brewing in his chest. He hadn’t failed to notice that Peter’s wandering had brought him even closer to Stiles’ still inattentive form. “If we’re family let me down.”

“I want to, really, I do. But I’d really rather not have to kill you.” The Alpha nodded to himself, “I think its best we wait.”

Derek tensed, alarm flaring as his uncle rounded on a barely moving Stiles. “Stop. What are you doing?”

“You have to understand, nephew,” Peter chided, his tone almost sympathetic as he lifted Stiles into his arms, “a Delta could never be satisfied by a Beta. Especially not so far into his heat. He needs an Alpha.”

“You can’t be – Stiles doesn’t want that! Leave him alone – put him down! Don’t touch him, he’s _mine! Peter!”_

Peter ignored him, using a knife to cut the rope around Stiles’ ankles loose before using the shredded pieces of his boxers to cover his hands as he yanked the manacles loose. He was still shouting, demanding, the words bordering on nonverbal as Peter drew Stiles closer, pressing a kiss to his sweaty forehead and promising the unresponsive Delta a warm den nearby.

He paused at the entryway, turning to the red headed woman – his nurse? When had she gotten here? “Keep an eye on him, I don’t want to be interrupted.”

“By myself?” She asked, startled, and a spike of anxiety and fear filled the small space.

“Yes, by yourself.” Peter drawled, tone amused, before he returned to whispering soft platitudes to Stiles, disappearing into the dark mouth of the tunnel. Derek’s howl – loud and hurt and furious – followed him.

The sound was so loud it stopped both Betas mid-step, the change sweeping across them in tandem, leaving them both pumped with adrenaline. Amber met blue, both equally alarmed at the sheer amount of dread the sound evoked in them.

“Jaxs, did you hear-”

“Yeah,” Jackson answer, a hand fisting roughly enough to cause all of his knuckles to pop at once. That had been a wolf’s call, one of their own, and it had sounded desolate.

“That was Derek,” Scott said, voice strained, “something’s happened.”

His boyfriend barely gave him any warning before he took off; sprinting in the direction the call had come from. Jackson fell into step behind him. His was still adjusting to his powers and hadn’t been quite as confident in the direction the howl had resonated from, but there was a sureness about his boyfriend’s step that filled him with enough confidence that they were going the right way.  

In his pocket, Jackson’s cell phone vibrated and he yanked it out while avoiding a low hanging branch. They were sprinting so hard that the trees were blurs of color and shapes as they ran, only his newly tuned reflexes keeping the blond wolf from making a nasty crash. The text was simple and to the point; _‘Hale House. John.’_

“It’s the Sheriff,” Jackson called, “they’re at Derek’s old place.”   

His boyfriend took a sharp right, the turn nearly hair pin, and Jackson couldn’t help but admire not only Scott’s abilities but his own to follow with such ease. Running felt exhilarating like this, under the influence of the change, and a part of him enjoyed it even if he was weary at what it was they could be running to. That howl had sounded devastated, utterly ruined, and the blond could only think of one reason for why that could be so. Jackson may have not always liked Stiles – let’s face it, he’d _never_ really liked Stiles – but he’d always kind of respected the little shit. Besides, nobody deserved to be kidnapped and killed, much less Stiles Stilinski.

Jackson was worried of what they would find at the Hale House, but whether it was from fear of finding Stilinski dead or what that would mean to Jackson’s new life, he couldn’t say. Here, as a wolf, Jackson had finally found that sense of connection he’d been looking for all these years. The craving to belong, to be part of something greater than himself, the desperate yearning to have someone understand him finally quenched, had all come about in the shape of the pack; in Scott, in the Stilinskis, even in Derek Hale.

And Jackson wasn’t so blind to not see that at the heart of it all was Stiles Stilinski; the Delta wolf was the heartblood of the pack. If Stiles died – what would happen to this? Would it dissolve, fall apart? He’d been chasing this feeling for all of his seventeen years, Jackson refused to lose it.

The Hale house came into view, the same stained and dark place it ever was, looking frightening and utterly ruined in the dim light of twilight. They skidded to a stop in front of it, nearly crashing into each other as they both tried to enter at once. The acidic smell of blood, the musk of cum, the foul stench of bile, and the oddly earthen smell of burnt skin wasn’t coming from the house though, but rather a bit away from it. It didn’t take them long to find a doorway built into the side of a hill, like an old chemical cellar you would find at industrial plants, but instead of being a narrow holding area it held a long, dark passageway. The two Betas exchanged a glance, Jackson pressing a finger to his lips as he took point.

They moved silently through the stone tunnel, stepping carefully around chunks of leaves and other rubble. Eventually the tunnel lightened with both the harsh artificial burn of electricity and the soft brush of twilight. The tunnel mouth opened into a large square room and towards the back of it was Derek Hale, suspended above ground, looking healthy and fit, if not obviously abused with angry welts around his ankles and wrists and a half hard cock hanging loose from his sleep pants. Jackson tried not to think of what that could mean even as he felt rage burn hot and potent in his belly.

There were two bodies, human and dismembered, scattered around the floor. Next to him, Jackson felt Scott shudder in revulsion and shot a hand out, squeezing his boy’s elbow in reassurance as he stepped into the room.

Only to be hit by what felt like a bus.

Jackson cursed as he was slammed into a mason wall, claws slashing and digging at his chest and throat. Scott was suddenly behind them both, face dark as he tossed the unknown female away by her hair. She hit the ground in a crouch, cursing and spitting like a cat more than the Beta werewolf her gold eyes labeled her as. Scott was standing in front of him, claws at the ready, his growls furious as Jackson shook off the shock of the attack, feeling the slashes across his skin heal. The woman (who was in a _nurse's outfit_ and how stupid was that? Really, did people even actually still wear those anymore?) charged them again, muscles bunched as she jumped and –

– was knocked out the air.

The Sheriff had arrived, eyes an angry ochre as he slammed into the unknown wolf, barreling out of the tunnel and into the woman. The two adults rolled across the floor, a ball of violence as claws and teeth dug into each other’s flesh.

John yelped as the bitch got in a good shot and both of the teenagers moved to engage but the Sheriff shouted them away, “get Derek down!”

Scott shot forward and only Jackson’s quick reflexes kept his boy from ending up with a handful of silver. It took them a moment to figure out how to get the older wolf loose and Derek was no help, seemingly completely feral, a series of snarls and growls piggy backing on one another until they became one truly violent sound. After a moment they found a key on a nearby table and Jackson tore of his hoodie to use as barrier as he unlocked Hale. Derek had barely hit the ground, the pads of his feet only just making contact, before surging towards the fighting wolves

In that moment the woman somehow managed to free herself, clearly realizing she was out matched, and made a mad dash from the entryway, flaps of her uniform hanging loosely behind her. Jackson felt his stomach retch, a hand shooting out to pull Scott further away from the center of the room and against his side when he realized that wasn’t fabric he was seeing hanging from her in long, curling peels. She barely made it a few feet when John was a top her, his frame looking somehow a thousand times bigger as he leapt through the air, pinning the woman down onto her stomach on all fours. The sound of teeth sinking into flesh and the sharp, wet gushing snap that followed it seemed to echo in the small room.

In his arms, Scott let out a tiny whimper.

The violence, while certainly called for and understandable, seemed grossly out of place on John Stilinski. While Jackson had never doubted the formable abilities of their Sheriff (especially not after watching him spar with Derek) this was something else completely. It was as if he was seeing the older man for the first time. This was not the warm and fuzzy John who made them breakfast and helped them with their homework. This John Stilinski at his most instinctual. This was John Stilinski the wolf. 

Derek was still moving, sprinting past where John was untangling himself from the dead wolf and up through the tunnel, John seconds behind him. 

“Where Stiles?” Scott cried, voice desperate and worried, as they sprinted after the two Betas.

“Follow him!” Jackson called back, certain that there was only one place that Derek could possibly be going. The blond was unwilling to take his eyes off of Derek for even a second, too afraid he might lose him, because  _Christ_ Derek was moving, uncaring of anything he ran into, breaking branches and logs loudly. Jackson hoped that this was not a time when stealth would be of the essence, because there was no way that the Alpha could not hear them coming. They broke into a clearing and Jackson had to veer roughly to the side, stumbling as he nearly collided with the sudden stock still body of Derek Hale.

A man stood in the middle of the clearing, eyes a bright, glowing red and bearing a scent so familiar it made something in Jackson ache. He held a boneless Stiles against his chest, claws posed in an obvious threat across his neck. One wrong move and he’d rip it out and leave Stiles to bleed to death.

By his side, John swore loudly. “You have to be kidding, _Peter Hale?”_

“Leave,” the Alpha snarled. “The Delta’s mine. Look how badly he wants it.”

Stiles was naked from the waist down, face blank and eyes hooded, his cock erect and proud, his knees quivering as he ground backwards against the Alpha’s hips. His head was limp against the Alpha – Peter Hale, Derek’s relation? – shoulder, neck exposed in perfect submission, whimpering desperately as he worked his body against him. The scent of arousal was so heavy in the clearing Jackson thought he would choke on it.

Derek let out a low growl, his face twisted in hurt and betrayal even as he glared hatefully at the Alpha.

“It’s the heat, Derek,” the Sheriff explained, voice incredibly composed considering what he witnessing, “he doesn’t know what he’s doing, this is nothing more than rape.”

“Give him to me.” Derek ground out and hell, Jackson didn’t know voices could hit that low.

“I can’t do that, little nephew,” the Alpha said with a frown, “this one was mine from the moment I met him in the woods. This is the way of our world; Alpha and Delta, stud and bitch.”

_“Peter,”_ Derek warned, voice heavy with threat, but he cut off as Stiles moaned, legs straightening as he took more of his own weight. Blue eyes blinked wearily out at them, showing the first signs of intelligent thought. He observed them all – and Jackson could see the struggle Stiles was having to understand what was happening – before he cocked his head up to stare at the Alpha holding him.

“Peter?” The scent of lust grew even stronger. To everyone's horror, Stiles shuddered, pressing even harder into the form behind him. "Alpha."

The man chuckled, eyes dark with promise as he stared at them, a hand sliding around the Delta's front until it was stroking a repeating line down Stiles' front, finger tips just brushing the base of his cock. Stiles was visibly shaking, standing on his tiptoes as his hips fucked up into nothing and Jackson winced at the look on Derek's face. John had latched a hand onto the furious Beta's arm, keeping him from doing anything stupid. He couldn't help but feel pity for Stiles; the kid was obviously  _seriously_  fucked up, his face vacant save for pure desperation, stance widening as he squirmed and whined. As they watched, a leg slid between Stiles' legs, bent so the heat mad wolf could have something to work himself on.  

Jackson exchanged a look with Scott and both began to slowly edge away from Derek and John, trying to circle around the Alpha. If Peter noticed or cared about their actions, he didn't show it. In fact, he seemed to be struggling, face flushing and lips twitching as he fought to maintain eye contact with Derek and not look down at the eager body all but trying to fuck itself on his thigh. A fine layer of sweat had broken out across his skin, strong enough that Jackson could scent it easily.

"Do you see what you're doing to him?" The Alpha snarled, eyes blazing red, "do you see how much you're hurting him by delaying this?" _Holy fuck_ , Jackson thought as Peter's hips began rolling against Stiles, a hand sliding down to cup Stiles' cock,  _he's going to fuck him right here, in front of us._ "He needsme. Jesus, Derek, he's in pain. Why are you doing this to us?"

Derek started forward, his moves halted as John lashed out to keep him still, "Stiles is _my_  mate. He wants me, he loves  _me._ If he's in pain its because of you! Give him to me, Peter!"

"You couldn't even keep him safe," Peter snapped back, "you let that Argent bitch hurt him, just like you let her burn us all alive!" Derek's struggles ceased, face pale as he stared at his uncle. "Do you really think I'd let you keep him? A Delta needs to be cared for, cherished, protected. He's needs an Alpha to breed him right. Besides, he was never yours to begin with. All of this could be avoided if you hadn't interfered that night and-"

Everything that happened next seemed to happen very quickly and simultaneously. 

Derek all but roared, breaking free from John with enough force that he sent the Sheriff flying into a tree, and charged.

A blur of brown - a coyote, a far flung part of Jackson's mind noted - shot from the woods, digging it's teeth into Peter's arm.

The Alpha let out an earthshaking howl, nearly dropping Stiles as he dug into the small canine's scruff with both hands and physically threw it away.

And Stiles ripped Peter Hale's throat out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual heat sex is in the chapter of the next story, Alpha, which should be posted if not by this morning than by the end of tomorrow. Just as soon I can manage, I promise. I know you all wanted heat sex, and you will get it, and I tried to include it in this chapter - but goddamn't, the story was begging to end here.
> 
> Please, please don't kill me.
> 
> I want to just say thank you guys for your amazing support of this story. You guys have put up with my un-beated story and my first attempts at porn so lovely and wonderfully. Things have been rocky in my life as of late and being able to write this and see all the wonderful view/kudos/and comments sometimes - often, honestly - saved my day if not my week.
> 
> Thank you, guys, truly.
> 
> Also, I swear I had the idea to use Coyotes and Foxes before the show. Those jerks, stealing my creativity. Any guesses on who our coyote friend is?


End file.
